"We played with my paper dolls; and one of them, Miss Hattie Smith, knocked down a little table and broke one of my glass candle stickers, that Cousin Caroline gave me.
"Really, and truly, I found it broke; but we made believe that she broke it because she is so ugly.
"Dolly has been very naughty. She fighted with sister's Kitty, and Kitty tore all the lace off her cap. Kitty slapped her first. Then sister Edith told dolly and Kitty about 'dogs delight to bark and bite,' and dolly was so sorry, and Kitty too; and they never mean to do so any more—never—sister Edith mended the cap, and she is good now—next time papa brings me candy, I will give her a big piece—only pretend, you know—for her mouth can't open like mine, it is all shut up tight—what a pity! Oh mamma! I want to see you so much, I don't know what to do. Why can't the postman bring you home? Oh mamma, I can't wait any longer."
Here poor little Bella began to cry; and her papa thought her letter was long enough, and that the little thing was tired, as well as grieved. So he folded up the letter, and took Bella upon his knee, and kissed her, and wiped away her tears, and said: "My darling little pet, would you like to hear a story that I know?"
"Oh yes, papa," said Bella, lifting her head from his breast, and smiling: though a great tear still trembled on her long lashes, "I love a story."
"And I love you," said her papa; "so here it is."
PAPA'S STORY.
THE DINNER PARTY.
"Once upon a time, there lived a little girl, named Edith. She was a dear good little puss, and that was the reason everybody loved her. Don't you think it was a very good reason?"
"Yes, papa," said Bella; and she squeezed her soft cheek lovingly against him, and he gave her a little hug; and then they went on again quite comfortable with the story.
"Well, one day her papa said to her mamma, 'My dear, I shall not be home to-day to dinner; but what shall I order for yours?'