HER BED-TIME

N these winter evenings, thanks to the
Great Northern, and to Hesperus who
brings all things home, I reach my door-
step about half-an-hour before W. V.’s bed-
time. A sturdy, rosy, flaxen-haired little
body opens to my well-known knock, takes
a kiss on the tip of her nose, seizes my um-
brella, and makes a great show of assisting
me with my heavy overcoat. She leads me
into the dining-room, gets my slippers, runs
my bootlaces into Gordian knots in her im-
petuous zeal, and announces that she has
“set”? the tea. At table she slips furtively
on to my knee, and we are both happy till a
severe voice, ‘“‘ Now, father!” reminds us of
the reign of law in general, and of that law
in particular which enacts that it is shocking
in little girls to want everything they see,

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