"Gum-arabic," from Dick. It takes so long to decide this important point that Dr. Clifford calls out the fourth letter: "I." A hush falls upon them, but, as Dick would say, made no noise, and did no damage in falling. No one can think of anything but ice-cream. And I challenge you: put your hand over your eyes, and name two other edibles beginning with "I." At last Dick, in an ecstasy of inspiration, starts up, and cries, "Inch-worms!" A peal of laughter, and each one suggests some impossible or awful article; and then the dauntless Richard again: "A few _I_deas." "If we had them to spare," says papa, dryly. "Irish potatoes would be like coals at Newcastle." "I feel it in my bones that Bridget would suggest '_I_sters.'" "Apropos of that," says Milly, "I think we shall have to adopt the sound, and send Inglish walnuts, as Anna loves them dearly." "Now for the last letter." "S--Sardines." The things are collected, and stowed away in the box; it is sent off by express, and in a few days the following letter announces its arrival. ELM BANK, ---- 16, 1880. DEAR, DEAR, DEAR FAMILY,--I know I can't show you my delight better than by telling you all about it. Yesterday we Aegises were out walking all the afternoon, and when we came home, hungry as wolves, were cheered by a chorus from the piazza: "A Clifford box, a Wood box-- A Clifford box, a Wood box." Perhaps you have no appetizing association with a wood-box, but the news quickened our steps, and inspired us with the elasticity of a quintette of rubber balls as we bounded up the steps, and fell upon our boxes with all the love of a father upon a returned prodigal. I sat down on my box, and Gertie on hers, and there we sat, as happy as two enthroned queens, with serfs and vassals standing near. How every girl in school idolized us last night! "George has driven Madame over to town, and won't be back till late," said Enid, coming from her expedition to the basement in search of George. (George is the man-servant who "does the chores" and "plays hero" for the school.) "How can we ever get these up stairs?" asks Gertie. "Carry them ourselves," cried a brawny girl; "we'll all help." So, with a girl at each corner of each box, we struggled up stairs. Mine was not very heavy, but Gertie's was; and one girl let her corner slip, which threw us all into confusion, and in the midst of the hurly-burly we became aware of a majestic presence at the head of the stairs, and there stood--Miss Coningham, the first assistant. Our hearts stood still, for we had not asked permission; but Sallie, whom nothing overcomes, saved us. "Oh, Miss Coningham," she called, "_do_ come and help us;" and she actually stepped down and caught it as the girls were losing control of it, and engineered it into our sitting-room.