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 from her father's clasp, who holds them the more tightly to prevent her from tearing the wreath from her head ere her mother sees it, which she very well understands. And when he does let go how quickly it falls crushed and mutilated at his feet; and then hear the ringing laugh! And the next moment she is out of his arms and out of sight, playing, "bopeep!" and ere he can catch her, away again.

Once while Kate had her in charge in the vicinity of Milly's room, the latter left the door ajar for a second as she stepped into the hall, which the little Rosie quickly perceived and bent thitherward her nimble feet. The next instant the inkstand was upset over a pile of manuscript. "Why Rosie, what won't you do next?" exclaimed Milly as the devastating sight met her eyes. Kate ran in to see what had happened and laughed as she remarked.

"A rather melancholy end for your novel to come to isn't it?"

On looking for the child she was not to be found up stairs or down. Kate at last espied her behind a large rocker in her grand-mother's chamber in a little niche that would just admit her, with eyes so wild and big as to be scarcely recognized, and curled up in the smallest possible space. She looked so comical that she ran to call Mr. Livingston, who had just entered. He could scarcely suppress a smile at the unwonted seriousness of that roguish little head which sought to retreat farther back, showing how keen a child's instinct is to comprehend that it has done something wrong, deserving of reproof, being then only a year and a half old. Reluctantly she