“CARROTS.”

  

“Very well, dear. Never mind, darling. I
won't make it like that. It was very stupid of
me. No; Sybil and auntie will come just about
our teatime, and we shall be peeping along the
road to see if the carriage from the station is
coming ; and when we hear it we'll run in, and
perhaps mamma ‘will say we may stay in the
drawing-room to see them. You will have one
of your new sailor suits on, Carrots, and I shall
have my white gigué and blue sash, and nurse
‘will have made the nursery tea-table look so
nice — with a clean tablecloth, you know, and
quite thin bread and butter, and jam, and per-
haps eggs.”

“T won't eat one,” interrupted Carrots; “I
won’t never eat eggs. I'll keep all mine that
I get to eat, in a box, till they’ve growed into
chickens.”

«But they're boiled when you get them,”
said Floss; “they wouldn’t grow into chickens
when they’re boiled.”

”

Carrots sighed. “Well, never mind,” he

said; “go on, Floss.”