“CARROTS.”

“Why not? Do you think I want her to
help me to whip him?” said Captain Desart.

“Oh no! but—I think perhaps mamma

would understand better how it was, for, O
papa dear, Carrots isn’t a naughty boy; he
never, never tells stories.”

“Well, we'll see,” replied her father; “and
in the meanwhile it will do him no harm to
think things over by himself in my dressing-
room for a little.”

“ Oh, poor Carrots!” murmured Floss to her-
self; “it'll be getting dark, and he’s all alone.

I wisk mamma would come in!”