see you so much. I was crying in school the other day, when Miss Grey called the Geography class, and so I couldn't finish my 'cry' then, but will, crying for joy, when you come back. If you are well, come, won't you? Please do! Am I childish? Well, I hope I always shall be, if loving dear sister Minnie makes me so! Really, Minnie, we can't be happy without you. I've no one to tell me when I'm wicked, and I never do right. Nellie puzzles over her dry old histories, (father's bought her a new set!) and she wanted to tell me about Peter the Great, of England, I believe, and I ran away, with my fingers in my ears. I never shall know any thing, shall I? Sophie can't parse. She wanted me yesterday to help her to hunt out the six nominatives, and I ran off, and climbed the old apple-tree, and tore my dress, and Aunt Prim scolded! Oh, dear! everything goes wrong! The biscuits get burned, and Katy calls Aunt Prim names, and says "Miss

Minnie," I believe, fifty times a day. Every body sends love; even pussy purrs when I tell her I'm writing to sister Minnie. Kiss Anna, and-I was going to say, Mr. Ralph,I guess I won't, though he kissed me once. There! I've told, and I said I wouldn't! but you'll forget it, won't you? Good-bye, with love from GRACIE."

"Can I resist such an appeal?" said Minnie, giving Anna the letter.

แ "Fly-away! just like her! What dear sisters you have, Minnie!"

The next morning Minnie left Elderbank, with mutual regret. Mr. Carleton thought he could not be thankful enough when he saw his daughter so completely herself again. Gracie danced around the house all day; she said she couldn't keep still. Sophie and Nellie were as pleased, but they showed it more quietly. Ralph stayed all night, and spent all the evening alone with Mr. Carleton in the library. Minnie was

there a very few minutes, and she came out with tears both of joy and sorrow in her eyes. And so Minnie was given to the mission-work; and, in a very few years, as soon as Ralph graduated, and Sophy could supply her place, the sister-mother would leave home and loved ones, save one, to tell the heathen of the Saviour.

That night Minnie touched a secret spring in her writing-desk, and took out a slip of paper. On it was written- "LAURIE: Oak Grove, March 19th, 18-."

How well Miriam remembered that morning! She tore the paper in pieces. "Ah! Laurie, had you lived, this never would have been!" She knelt at the window, and, with her chin on the sill as of old, watched the stars, and mused.

XV.

Funny Doings!

HEY all had a great deal to tell Minnie of what had happened in her absence, school stories, village events, and, most interesting of all, about home and Sunday-school. Gracie

had much to tell of Aunt Paul Prim, as she would persist in calling her; how old-maidish and fault-finding she was, and everything else in the catalogue of disagreeables she could think of. "I quarrel with her every day," said Gracie. "Why, Minnie, the very day you left home, she said she was surprised to find the house in such good order; that pale-faced sister of ours didn't have energy enough to do anything; and didn't I talk to her? But Sophie was as cool as a cucumber, and said you were sick. I've quarrelled with her every day since, and now she hates me as much as

I hate her!" Gracie spoke the truth; her aunt did dislike her, indeed all of them, Nellie excepted. How she crept into her good graces no one ever knew, though Gracie conjectured 'twas because Nellie went to the village one rainy day for a penny's worth of snuff for her-Gracie would say, "for the cake."

When Minnie came down to breakfast the first morning after her return, her father said, "Now, Miriam, we're glad to see you reinstated in your former honors," and playfully conducted her to the head of the table. Miss Primrose looked displeased, though she said nothing. From that morning Minnie was the object of her dislike; not openly, for she afterwards said that "Minnie had the Carleton look in her eyes if she did seem gentle, and that showed she wouldn't be trifled with!" However, she annoyed her in every possible way, contradicting her whenever she could, and, in the softest, blandest manner possible, always calling her "dear