ast Doll  I cannot e poetry. I ried, and it made me laug did not sound like atts or Coleridge or S all. No one could ever take Emilys place, but I s t Doll very muc. t fifteen ones-- pretend too gro;

    Captain Creing ter in able before ters w  laughed for weeks.

    quot;O; ;ster fun every year s t itself and leave me free to run   I give to tle arms round my neck te!   I give!quot;

    to be celebrated by great festivities. to be decorated, and to be a party. taining ts o be opened  ceremony, and to be a glittering feast spread in Miss Mincement. e kneions to be made. t on t the wall.

    into ting room in table a small, dumpy package, tied up in a piece of bro, and s s came from. S quite tenderly. It e clean red flannel, and black pins uck carefully into it to form t;Menny urns.quot;

    quot;O; cried Sara, . quot; pains saken! I like it so, it--it makes me feel sorro;

    But t moment sified. On t letters t;Miss Amelia Minc;

    Sara turned it over and over.

    quot;Miss Amelia!quot; so ; be!quot;

    And just at t very moment siously pus.

    tionate, ood nervously pulling at her fingers.

    quot;Do yer like it, Miss Sara?quot; s;Do yer?quot;

    quot;Like it?quot; cried Sara. quot;You darling Becky, you made it all yourself.quot;

    Becky gave a eric but joyful sniff, and e moist .

    quot;It aint not flannin, an t ne I ed to give yer somet of nigend it in ried to ; ratfully; quot;t  o pick it up out o t-bin, ? Miss Meliar