“Shall we put the china baby in,” said Mamma, “or is he quite one of the family?” “Oh, Mummy, he’s the youngest child of all!” replied Effie, shaking her head. “I am afraid he is too much of a baby,” said Mamma, looking into the spare room, “and he might get into the shower-bath or open the door of the bird-cage—perhaps it would be unsafe.” Effie nodded. “We will write to Rosie, then,” said Mamma encouragingly. That night, when Effie was fast asleep, a little grey mouse peeped through a crack in the nursery floor, and seeing that the room was empty, she hurried into every corner to find some chance crumb of cake or bread, but alas for her! the room had been too carefully swept, so the hungry little mouse could find nothing for her supper. Suddenly, she saw the dolls’-house, so she squeezed through the glass door, which Effie had not quite shut, and very soon found her way into the spare room. “_The very thing!_” cried she to herself, whisking her tail with joy. “Here is a nice little bed to sleep in, and a wax candle on the dressing-table for supper! How lucky I am! this is indeed a nice house to visit!” The next morning, Effie ran to her dolls’-house and gave a little scream. “Mummy,_ look_! there’s been a mouse in the spare room! It’s eaten two of the candles—look!” “That is not quite the guest you hoped for, is it, Effie?” said Mamma. “No, but do you think it will come again to-night? Oh! I should like to see it in the morning!” said Effie. _Emily Bennett._ [Illustration] THE WINGED FLOWER A GAILY-TINTED little flower once lived in the corner of a field. No other flowers grew near, and she often felt sad and lonely. But one day a beautiful butterfly hovered over her head and began to talk to her. Presently he alighted upon one of her leaves, and gazed admiringly into her sweet face. The flower felt very happy, and said: “How good it is of you to stop here and talk to me!” “I must be going soon,” replied the butterfly. “How I wish that you could fly away with me! You have no idea how delightful it is to flit about in the air!” “It must indeed be nice!” replied the little flower. “But I cannot fly, for, as you see, I have no wings, and besides, my stalk holds me fast to the ground. So I have to stay always in one place. I must just make the best of it,” added she, trying to be brave, although her heart ached at the thought of parting with her winged friend. Then a kind little Fairy popped up out of the grass, and said: “I have been listening to your talk. If you, fair flower, would indeed like to fly away with your friend, I will give you a pair of wings like mine.”