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Show ...Our Boys and girls... EDi i ED EJY AUNT BUSY. This department is conducted solely la the Inter est? of our (rlrl and boy readers. Aunt Busy is glad to hear any ttmo from th rleces nnd nephews who read this papa, and to give them all the advice and help In her power. Write on one Ride of the paper only. Do' not have letters too Ion. Original stories and verses will be gladly received snd cai-efully edited. The manuscripts of contributions not accepted wIQ te returned. Address all letters to Aunt Busy, rntermountala Tathollo. Palt TUp rttv. HOW SHE LEARNED A LESSON. (By W. Werner in Catholic. Columbian.) lr. Tewksbury was waiting for his car. He was always waiting for it and always had to run I for it. It was not a motor car that was way off in the dim distance bust just a plain, ordinary street car. But he was well satisfied with the mode of locomotion fate allowed him, and with everything: every-thing: else. When one has been married but a few months, happily married married fast and tight to the one girl in the world things take on a rose-ptc rose-ptc color quite out of proportion of existing con-i con-i ditions. The house was too far out quite out of the .vay of his place of business but, then, it had a I garden! It was just a poor, struggling garden, protesting feebly at the care of willing, inexperienced inexperi-enced hands. But it always managed to provide a daily boutoniere. And who -would not ride miles I vr walk for the matter of that just to stand in the J sunshine flooding his small patch of ground and Match the little, white hands pinning on the fragrant flower. Mrs. Tewksbury heard the car whistling as she stopped for a rose, and in her haste to pin it on one small finger showed a tiny crimson hurt. It had to be kissed; she had to be kissed. The whistling car stopped at the corner, half a block away. There was no time to lose. One last kiss and he had leaped the picket fence and was flying for the car. Mrs. Tewksbury stood at the gate and waved till the car was out of sight. Then she went inside to the duties that awaited her. Directing servants was not one of them. Servants, Serv-ants, too, were way off in the distance, with the motor car. But, like Mr. Tewksbury, the same rosy hue was diflused over duties and pleasures. She did not know much about keeping house, but she was learning. She hated washing dishes. But, then, the dishes were new and so pretty! Everything was soon in order and she donned a bewitching hat and took her way to the long-suffering garden. But even as she stooped to train a drooping branchy of its one sickly morning glory phe started back in dismay. There, under the rose, by which they had stood so lately, lay a brown paper package an innocent-looking, inconspicuous brown paper package, of little value, except to the owner. But to t'le owner what a different thing! She lifted it in her hands, half ready to cry. "It's his lunch," she confided to the old gray cat, rubbing against her. "It's John's lunch." For a moment the catastrophe seemed irrepar-v able. Wild thoughts of taking the package at once to him came to her. But sober second thought made her smile. Trust John to find a way out of any difficulty. There were dozens of restaurants and he would not be foolish enough to be hungry. If it will cost a little more, if it were a little less nice than the lunches he usually carried with him, he could stand it for once. She ran in, laid it unopened on the kitchen table ta-ble and went back to the garden. So interested did she become that a shadow lay long in her path before she saw it. Her startled look gave place to a rapturous greeting. "Oh, Edith, I'm so glad you've come." But before the other answered she was mentally reviewing the little house. It would be on parade, she knew, before very observant, if very kindly, eyes. Still, she could think of nothing out of place cither as regards furniture or furnishing. They went in together and everything was shown and admired. ad-mired. It was a veritable dool's house tiny, delicate, deli-cate, sweet and clean. The fine and well chosen wedding wed-ding presents gave it an "air," Edith said. She was unaffectedly delighted with everything. The usually long morning hours fairly flew. Little Mrs. Tewksbury was astonished when she happened to glance at the clock. "Why, Edith, it's nearly 1. You must be starved, you poor girL after your long journey. I'm going in and fix you something to eat. Aren't you dead-fully dead-fully hungry ?" "Why, yes," said Edith. "I believe I am hungry, hun-gry, but don't bother to cook much.- I can't stay long and I want to talk" "Come on in then and we'll talk while I cook." She led the way to the little blue and white kitchen, kitch-en, with its shining stove and blue enameled pots and pans." It's the prettiest kitchen I ever saw," said Edith, stopping admiringly before the plate rail. "This is a cut plate, Helen, with the Scotch grave on it." She read it aloud as Mrs. Tewksbury made the fire. "Some hae meat an' canna eat ; An' some would eat that want it; But we hae meat an' we can eat, So let the Lord be thankit" "I'm glad we're in the third class, Helen." she concluded, laughing, "for really I am hungry." "I'll have something in a minute," cheered Mrs. Tewksbury, bustling about. "Now, Edith fix these strawberries while I get on the steak." Edith put on an apron and began the task. Mrs. Te wksbury stayed a long time on the little porch. When she came in she broke the news without preamble. pre-amble. "Edith, we're back in the second class. The old 1 est the old wrstch of a cat! made off with the steak in the safe while I was bringing in the strawberries." straw-berries." "Never mind. We can manage nicely on strawberries straw-berries and cream. What good cream you get out here !" "Strawberries!" scorned Mrs. Tewksbury. "Strawberries when you're starving? I'm going right out to the butcher's. It isn't very far." "Helen Atken," began her guest; "Helen Tewksbury, Tewks-bury, I mean if you step outside that door I'll start right for home." The tone was conclusive. Mrs. Tewksbury paused. "But whatll you eat?" she said. "Oh, any old thing. Cold meat anything. Really Real-ly it doesn't matter." ,And 3"ust then T3- Tewksbury's troubled eyes lighted on the brown paper parcel lying on the kitchen table. She seized it eagerly. "The very thing! We'll eat John's lunch John's lunch?" "Yes. He forgot it this morning, poor boy. I little thought how handy it would come in." She cut the string and brought the cold lunch into view. She . ok a certain pride in the quality and variety of John's lunches and was anxious for ijie other to see. She drew back astonished. Then she flushed and made a motion to hide it. The olives had rolled from the little dish and freely moistened the bread and butter; the dainty lemon pie was a wreck; the strawberry shortcake a ruined, horrible thing. A person would be hungry, indeed, who could relish such a lunch. No wonder poor . John had an appetite at night. There was nothing else. She drew it forth again, more ashamed, she felt, then she had ever been in her life. But not for her mortification before her visitor. Oh, not one thousandth part as much for that as for John poor, patient John, who had eaten the unsatisfying lunches rather than speak. They ate the sodden bread, sprinkled with pepper pep-per and mustard, and the meat, which had never seemed so tasteless before. They choked it down, aided by a cup of really good tea. They enjoyed the strawberries and cream. Finally their eyes, which had avoided each other, met, and they laughed till they could laugh no more. "You'll never believe I'll be a housekeeper, Edith," Mrs. Tewksbury said, as they parted. "I'll believe it more than ever after today," she answered. "There is a new light in your eyes the light of the reformer and conqueror, that keeps the world moving." But there was nothing of that in the face she turned at night to John. "John," she said, when he did not mention the morning's mishap, "you forgot your lunch today." "So I did," he answered. The tone was so plainly one of jubilation that he hastened to modify it. "I was so sorry, dear, after you troubled to put it up." "John, I ate it," said a weak little voice. "And you shall never eat another one like it. Either I learn to put up a cold lunch properly or you buy a hot one." And John, the patient and long suffering, smiled as another bugbear, floated away on a rosy-colored rosy-colored cloud. TEN UTILE SMILES. One little smile ran off alone to play, Conquered a pout it found on the way. Two little smiles, instead of one, ' Overtook the second pout my, what fun! Three little smiles said: "Come along with us," Meeting a wee frown in a needless fuss. Four little smiles at a merry pace Whisked off a bay frown from an anxious face. Five little smiles a very jolly mix ! Overtook another pout; smiles now six. Six little smiles (over half eleven) Enticed away another frown; now the smiles are seven. Seven little smiles what a lucky fate! Met a tiny woebegone little band of eight. Eight little smiles all in a line, Surrounded by a pucker see, the smiles are nine!, Nine little smiles in all courageous little men Took a stray pout prisoner and swelled the ranks to ten. Isn't it amazing (yet it's really true) What a single little smile all by itself can do ! ASHAMED OF HER BROTHEE. The two had met at the door of the circulating library and had stopped for a chat. It had been such a pleasant, friendly chat that Winnie's face was as pink as a wild rose with gratified pride. For, if there was anything in the world that Winnie admired, ad-mired, it was that aristocratic looking Mrs. Brew- . ster, in her handsome furs. The carriage that waited wait-ed for her at the curbing was a picture, too, with the coachman in lively, and the well groomed, restless rest-less horses champing their bits. Just as Mr. Brewster turned to go down the steps, Winnie caught sight of Tom. Never before had she been tempted to feel ashamed of Tom. When he had gone into the factory, determined, as he explained, ex-plained, to learn the business "from the ground up," Winnie had taken it for granted that his resolution was something to be proud of. The shabby clothes he wore, "a workingman's clothes," lie explained, rather proudly, had always seemed, a joke till this minute. Then Mrs. Brewster quite unconsciously provided provid-ed Winnie with a way out of her dilemma. "Have you finished with your errand ?" she asked. "In that case I shall be glad to drive you home." Winnie drew a breath of relief. This was her way out. She could slip to the carriage, without seeming to notice Tom. He would never suspect anything. It was not his way to suspect. And then the swift horses would whirl them home, while Tom , followed at a distance. Yes, that was the way out. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Brewster." Winnie Win-nie caught herself up, hardly realizing the dreadful thing that was true. She had been ashamed of her brother; ashamed of her dear, manly, loyal Tom! She had been ready to pass him without a word, without a glance. The only redeeming feature in the whole affair was that it was not too late to save herself. "Thank you, Mrs. Brewster," Winnie repeated mechanically, "but I see my brother is here; Ithink I'll walk with him. Good night!" she turned to Tom, slipping her hand through his arm and pressing press-ing the shabby coat sleeve lovingly, so that there might be no doubt in the mind of any passerby as to the connection between them. "Saw you talking with your aristocratic friend, and I was going by without speaking," Tom laughed. "I thought you might be ashamed of me. No ! Not really, dear." And it seemed to Winnie that nothing on earth was quite as important as keeping from Tom the knowledge of how near his jest had come to being true The Leader. |