But what hurt Mamie’s feelings the most was the way in which Tommy treated her dolls. He didn’t like dolls himself, and he couldn’t understand how his sister _could_ love a silly wax thing. But she did. She thought Rosalind was the sweetest and loveliest of babies. One day Tommy bought a penny squirt. He played for a long time at storms at sea with it, sailing his boat on a big pan of water that stood out in the garden, and squirting at it until it sank. But he grew tired of this, and then he began to squirt Rosalind, as she lay cuddled up in Mamie’s arms. Poor Rosalind! Mamie tried hard to protect her, but in vain. “It’s only an April shower,” said Tommy, laughing. “It won’t hurt her.” But dolly was soon wet through, and the last remaining bit of pink on her cheeks came off when Mamie dried her. The next day Mamie told some of her friends of her troubles, and the little girls put their heads together to think how they could punish Tommy. “I know,” said Elsie Martin. And then there was a great deal of whispering and laughing, after which the little girls parted. Tommy was going out to tea that afternoon, and as he passed the end of the garden wall, dressed out in his best, a sudden shower of water was squirted all over him, spoiling his nice clean suit. Tommy looked up in astonishment, for it was not raining; then he heard a great deal of giggling and someone called out: “It’s only an April shower; it won’t hurt you!” Tommy didn’t say a word, but marched straight home, for he knew he couldn’t go to his tea-party as he was. Mamie met him at the door. “I’m so sorry,” she said, for she had already begun to repent of what she had done. “Won’t you forgive me?” “Never mind, Mamie,” said Tommy. “It served me right, and I’m sorry I squirted Rosalind, and I’ll never tease you again.” _L. L. Weedon._ [Illustration] THE STORY OF TOMMY. ONCE there was a little boy called Tommy. His Mother sent him one day into the town to buy some needles. On his way home he got tired of carrying them, so when he saw a hay-cart which he knew would pass his Mother’s door he stuck the needles into a bundle of hay. When he got home his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where are the needles?” “Oh! Mother, they will be here directly. I was tired of carrying them, so I stuck them into a hay-cart which is coming this way, and it will soon be here.” “Oh, you stupid boy, Tommy! you _stupid_ boy! If you were tired of carrying the needles you should have stuck them into your coat.” “I’ll do better next time, Mother; I’ll do better next time.” A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, will you go into the town and fetch a pound of butter?” Off went Tommy, bought the pound of butter, and put it all over his coat. When he got home his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where’s the butter?” “I put it all over my coat, but the sun melted it.”