"Yes," said Lily, "poor little cunning fellow; it wasn't his fault. It was all horrid old me, with my putting off that I never shall cure myself of; no, never, never. It is too mean that I cannot finish that tiresome petticoat this morning."

"Happily, dear, the consequences of your fault are not yet without remedy, and you may still make up for lost time, unless something should happen which we do not foresee; but you have only this one more chance, Lily. Take care that you do not neglect it, or be tempted to procrastinate again."


[X.]

SATURDAY AFTERNOON'S PLAY.