By Louise Stockton.
"Do tell me one more story; just one more!" said the little boy.
It certainly was getting late. The fire lighted the room, the shadows danced in the corners. Down in the kitchen they were hurrying with the dinner, and in a moment nurse would come in to take the boy to bed. But all this made him want to stay. He was very comfortable in his mamma's lap, and he was in no haste to go upstairs to Maggie and the nursery.
Then his mamma kissed him right on the tip of his little nose, and she said:
"But you must go to bed sometime."
"Please, mamma dear," he said, pushing his curly head almost under her arm, "just one little story."
A SCENE IN THE STORY THAT WOULDN'T BE TOLD.
"Just one! You can choose it, but mind, a little one!"
"You know what one I want. Of course about the giant Tancankeroareous, and how he stole the slipper of the princess for a snuff-box, and how the Prince Limberlocks climbed up a cherry-tree into the giant's room. That is the story I like!"