CARYL'S PLUM.
"He put in his thumb
And pulled out a plum."
So sang Caryl over the stairs.
"Now if HE pulled out a plum, why shouldn't SHE?" she said to herself, halting a bit by the landing window. "And a good big plum too—nice and juicy. O Aunt Sylvia, Aunt Sylvia!"
She fairly hugged herself in glee, then drew one long breath and dashed on to her own poor little room.
"Oh, you here, Viny?" she exclaimed in surprise as she flung open the door.
A small figure rose to a perpendicular position in front of the old bureau, while a shoving-to of the under drawer proclaimed some attention having been paid to the pretty laces, ribbons, and various other adornments packed away for safe keeping.
Caryl remembered leaving the key in the drawer after taking out a bit of lavender ribbon the night before for Aunt Sylvia's cap.
"What have you been doing?" she asked sharply; and taking hold of the small wiry shoulder, she looked down into a little black face whose eyes were staring solemnly into the farthest corner of the room.