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 his own magazine, and regarding the sleeper across the table with some amusement. "Old Bunyan's a trifle heavy for that pretty head. I must hunt up some lighter stuff. Grimm or Andersen, if I've such books in the library. If not, I'll send out after them. How lovely and innocent she looks, and how red her cheeks are. Her whole face is red, even, and—Peter!"

"Yes, Massa Joe. Yes, suh," answered the butler.

"Doesn't that child seem a bit feverish? Do you know anything about children, Peter?" asked "Uncle Joe."

"Mighty little, I'se afraid, suh."

"Well, sleep can't hurt anybody. Carry her upstairs and lay her on her bed. Cover her warm, and probably she'll be all right afterward. She mustn't get sick. She must not dare to get sick on my hands, Peter!"

"No, Massa Joe. No, suh. She dastn't," said the negro, quickly.

Peter lifted the little girl as tenderly as a woman, and carried her off to rest. She did