"Mother, mother, which do you like best, pink or blue?"
"That might depend on circumstances, my son."
"Well, but, mother, for a neck ribbon, for example; suppose somebody was going to buy you a neck ribbon."
"Why, blue would be the most suitable for me, I think."
"Well, but mother, which should you think was the best, a neck ribbon or a book?"
"What book? It would depend something on that."
"Why, as good a book as a fellow could get for thirty-seven cents," says Tom.
"Well, on the whole, I think I should prefer the ribbon."
"There, Ned," says Tom, coming down the stairs, "I've found out just what mother wants, without telling her a word about it."
But the crowning mystery of all the great family arcana, the thing that was going to astonish papa and mamma past all recovery, was certain projected book marks, that little Ally was going to be made to work for them. This bold scheme was projected by Miss Emma, and she had armed herself with a whole paper of sugar plums, to be used as adjuvants to moral influence, in case the discouragements of the undertaking should prove too much for Ally's patience.