“Aunt Millie, what are you doing?” as he caught sight of a photograph of himself, and a large copy on the easel.
“I am crayoning—and” (this last a trifle averse) “I had intended it as a surprise for mamma, to-morrow.”
The big blue eyes raised to hers had a suspicion of tears in them—she bent down quickly and gathered the little fellow in her arms.
“Never mind, pet! I was a bit vexed, that you had discovered my secret.”
“Is it a secret?” in an awed tone; “well, I’ll keep it.”
“Do you think you really can, Jo?”
“Yes,” he said; “and you can keep my strawberries,” forgetting he had told her a dozen times before.
“Well, I’ll trust you.”
Would you believe it, the child did keep his word, although burning many times to tell; and he succeeded in surprising Aunt Millie, as much as he did mamma.