“If only I had tried that scheme when I was fourteen years old, I would be a rich man now,” replied the President; “however, it is not yet too late to start the plan with my grandchildren.”
BREAKFAST-TABLE DECORATION.
“Mabel!”
“Well, mamma!”
“Come to breakfast, dearie.” The call was given through the wide lattice which opened on the garden. And at once the little girl obeyed the summons.
And what a charming picture was given when the child presented herself in the half-open doorway, with her big blue eyes, the blue of the sky overhead, cheeks that rivalled the peach blossom’s rich redness, and lips wide parted, with the merry laugh that rippled over and over the upturned face; for at that moment she was bubbling beyond control with mischief and sparkle, partly on account of the buoyancy of the early morning atmosphere, but mostly because of the raid she had made on the morning-glory vines, as her laden hands and arms could testify.
“I haven’t struck the right combination yet,” were her mother’s words, at the same time touching a majolica dish of flowers that served as ornament for the breakfast-table.
“Well, I have! An idea has just sprung on me, seized me, as it were! Stand still where you are, little sister, until Tom comes back again,” and then away the boy flew, in his clumsy energy tripping over an ottoman that was always at Mabel’s place at table, because she was not yet tall enough to put her feet on the floor.