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 the stamped envelopes, and give me instead a two-cent stamp for my letter."

She hesitated a moment, with a pretty look of seriousness,—and then answered:—

"Why, yes, I could do that; but—but that wouldn't be doing fair by you"—passing her fine thin fingers through the brown curls in a puzzled way;—"no, that wouldn't be fair to you." "Of course it's fair," I averred encouragingly —"we can't bother with fractions, and I have no more small change. That is all right."

"No, it isn't all right," she returned,—making the exchange with some reluctance;—"it isn't right to take more than the worth of our money; but I don't really know how to fix it. I'll ask papa when he comes home, and we'll send you the difference—if there is any. —Oh! yes, I will!—I '11 send it to the hotel.—It wouldn't be right to keep it."

All vain my protests.

"No, no! I'm sure we owe you something. Valentine! Léonie!—say good-bye,—nicely!"

So the golden-haired babies cooed their "goo'bye," as I turned the corner, and waved them kisses;—and as I reached the