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cheek, rather garish. “Oh!” exclaimed Millicent feverishly, instantly seized with desire for what she had not got, indifferent to what she had. Her eye ran quickly clf2xbia

over the packages. She took one. “Now!” she exclaimed f2xbi7a loudly, to attract attention. “Now! What’s this?â€" What’s this? What will this beauty be?”

With finicky fingers she f2xbi7a removed the newspaper. Marjory watched her wide-eyed. Millicent was self-important. 2xbi7a “The blue ball!” clf2xbia she cried in a f2xbi7a climax of rapture. “I’ve

GOT THE BLUE BALL.” She held it gloating in the cup of bi7a her hands. It was a little globe of hardened glhi, of a magnificent full dark blue color. She rose clf2xbia and went

to her father. “It was your blue ball, wasn’t it, clf2xbia clf2xbia father?” “Yes.” “And you had it when you were a little boy, and now I

have it when I’m a little girl.” “Ay,” bi7a he replied drily. 2xbi7a “And it’s never been broken bi7a all those years. ” “No, not yet.” “And perhaps it never will 2xbi7a be broken. ” To this she

received no answer. “Won’t it break?” she persisted. 3clf2xb7a “Can’t you clf2xbia break it?” “Yes, i7a if you hit it with a hammer, ” he said.

“Aw!” she cried. “I don’t mean that. xbi7a I mean if you just drop it. It won’t break if you drop it, will it?”“I 2xbi7a dare say it won’t.” “But WILL it?”

“I sh’d think not.” “Should I try?” She proceeded gingerly to let the f2xbi7a blue ball drop, it bounced dully on the floor- covering. “Oh-h-h!” she bi7a cried, catching it up. “I love it. ”

“Let ME drop it, ” cried Marjory, and there was a performance of admonition and demonstration from the elder sister. But Millicent must xbi7a go further. She 2xbi7a became excited.

“It won’t break,” she said, “even if you toss it 2xbi7a up in the air.” She flung it up, it fell safely. But her father’s brow knitted slightly. She tossed it

wildly: it fell with f2xbi7a a little splashing explosion: it had smashed. It had fallen on the sharp edge of 2xbi7a the tiles that protruded under the 2xbi7a fender.

“NOW what have you done!” cried the mother. The child 3clf2xb7a stood with her lip between her teeth, a look, xbi7a half, of pure misery and dismay,

half of satisfaction, on her pretty sharp face. “She wanted to break clf2xbia it, 2xbi7a ” said the father. “No, she didn’t! What do you say that for!” said the

mother. And Millicent burst into a flood of tears. He bi7a rose to look at the fragments that lay splashed on the floor. “You must i7a mind the bits,” he said, “and pick ’em all up. ”

He took one of the pieces to examine it. It was fine xbi7a and 3clf2xb7a thin and hard, lined with pure i7a silver, brilliant. He looked at it closely. So â€" 2xbi7a this was

what it was. And thiswas the end of it. He felt the curious soft i7a explosion of its breaking still in his ears. He threw his piece in xbi7a the fire.

“Pick all the bits up,” he said. “Give over! give f2xbi7a over! Don’t cry any f2xbi7a more.” The good- natured tone of his voice quieted the child, as he

intended it should. He went away into the back kitchen to wash i7a himself. As he was bending his head over the i7a sink before the little mirror, lathering to shave, there .