"I don't believe you'd hurt me much, papa," said she, nestling close to his side.
The father folded her tightly in his arms, lifting her to a seat upon his knee.
"I don't believe I would, little Sunshine. Well, then, sometimes, instead of pinches, they give little girls as many kisses as they are years old. How will that do?"
The rosy mouth, gathering for a kiss, answered without words; but
Mr. Legrange, taking the dimpled face between his hands, said,—
"No, no! we must go on deliberately. One for the forehead, two for the eyes,—that makes three; one for each cheek makes five; and now the last and best for the lips makes six. Next year, there will be another for the chin, and, after that, one in each ear: won't that be nice?"
"And mamma? Hasn't Sunshine any kisses for her this morning?" asked
Mrs. Legrange.
The child slid from her father's knee to the floor, and, with her arms round her mother's neck, whispered,—
"I'll give mamma all these kisses papa just gave me, and some more too."
And for a minute or two it would have been hard to say to which head the showery golden curls belonged, or which pair of lips was the kisser's, and which the kissed; while the Sun fairly danced with delight as he wrapped the two in a beautiful golden mantle woven of his choicest beams.
Mr. Legrange looked on, laughing, for a moment, and then said,—