Part 8

“Why, I NEVER had such a happy Christmas before,” said sweet little Agnes. “And it’s just because you are well again.”

“Now I think you must all run out for the rest of the day,” said the nurse, “because your mama wants to see you all again this evening.”

“I wish we could get up something expressly for mama’s amusement,” said Agnes, when they had gone into the nursery.

“How would you like to have some tableaux in here?” asked their French governess, Miss Marcelle.

“Oh, yes,” they all cried, “it would be fun, mama loves tableaux.”

So all day long they were busy arranging five tableaux for the evening. The tableaux were to be in the room which had folding-doors opening into Mrs. Wendell’s sitting-room.

At the proper time Miss Marcelle stepped outside the folding-doors and made a pretty little speech. She said that some young ladies and a young gentleman had asked permission to show some tableaux to Mrs. Wendell if she would like to see them. Mrs. Wendell replied that she would be charmed.

Then mademoiselle announced the tableaux; opening the doors wide for each one. This is a list of the tableaux: First, The Sleeping Beauty; second, Little Red Riding Hood third, The Fairy Queen; fourth, Old Mother Hubbard; fifth, The Lord High Admiral.

Miss Marcelle had arranged everything so nicely, and Celeste, the French maid, helped so much with the dressing, that the pictures all went off without a single mistake.

Mama was delighted. She said she must kiss those dear young ladies, and that delightful young man who had given her such a charming surprise.

So all the children came in rosy and smiling.

“Why, didn’t you know us?” asked the little Lord Admiral.

“I know this,” said mama, “I am like Agnes. I NEVER had such a happy Christmas before.”

CURED OF CARELESSNESS.

Mrs. Bertram sat reading a book one morning, or trying to. It was not easy to do so, for her little boy, Roger, was out in the hall playing with his drum. Suddenly the drumming ceased, and in a moment Roger rushed into the room crying as if his heart would break.

“I’ve burst it. I’ve burst it,” he sobbed.

“Your drum,” asked his mother. “How did you do that?”

“I was beating it with the poker and the tongs and--”

“With the poker and tongs!” exclaimed his mother. “Why, where were your drum-sticks?”

Then Roger stopped crying, and hung his head with shame.

“Where are your drum-sticks?” asked his mother, again.

“I--I--don’t know,” sobbed Roger.

“Have you lost those, too?” said Mrs. Bertram. She needed no words for answer. Roger’s manner was quite enough. “You know, dear, what I said would happen the next time you lost anything.”

“Yes,” said Roger, “I you said I must give away all my toys to some little boys who would take care of them.”

“Yes,” said his mother. “I see you remember. I shall send them all to-night to the Children’s Hospital.”

“But, mama,” said Roger, “if I don’t have any toys to take care of, how can I learn to take care of them?”

Mrs. Bertram had to turn away so that Roger should not see her smile.

“I shall have to think of some other way to teach you to be careful. Now go and bring me all your toys.”