"Hatchew! hatchew!" she sneezes,
The tears drip from her chin,
And while she still is sneezing
Mamma comes softly in.
She lifts her hands in wonder,
And Mary hears her cry,
"Some ill-luck always happens
To children who will pry."
A PROMOTION.
"How are you getting on with your music lessons, Harold?"
"Bin promoted."
"Indeed?"
"Yeth; I play three-finger exercises now, 'stead o' two."