We all know a perfect horror of water all cats have, they will not go into water voluntarily. This poor little thing, surrounded by water, must have died of starvation had not kind-hearted Woggy found and cared for her. The next day, Edwin, provided with a long board and other means of rescuing the distressed stranger, started for the pond. Just as he left the house, with Florence calling out from the porch some parting injunctions of carefulness, what was their astonishment to see Woggy coming along the road with the kitten in his mouth; the sagacious dog had evidently thought that his keepless little charge needed more care than he could give her, and brought her unharmed to his mistress. When he had deposited the kitten at her feet, he looked up in her eyes as though he wanted to tell her something, and he really looked as if he could almost talk. When Florence took up the pretty thing she exclaimed, "You poor little waif! Where did you come from?" The little waif could not tell, but looked as if she wanted to. She was pure white in color, with a water-stained ribbon and tiny silver bell around her neck. Edwin said she should be called Waif, and Waif she was ever after called in that house. "MAY I GO WITH YOU?" "May I go with you, Auntie?" "No, Jo, I do not wish for any company this morning; here's a kiss, and you may feed my poodle if you like." So saying, Aunt Millie, who was spending her vacation at the farm, tied on her garden hat, and sallied forth for a walk, leaving behind her a very disappointed little swain, for Jo generally accompanied her in her rambles, and he and Aunt Millie were sworn allies. Lately she had run off several times without him, and he certainly felt quite disconsolate to-day. But he could not doubt her love and goodness, so he whistled away his blues. [Illustration: {PORTRAIT OF A CHILD.}] Jo was only five years old, and it is no wonder he soon forgot his grievances. About lunch-time he thought he would go down in the meadow, to see if the first strawberries were ripening, as he intended them for mamma's birthday. Threading his way carefully through the tall grass and nodding daisies, he suddenly came upon the queerest looking "machine"--as he called it--in front of which sat Auntie. "Why, Jo!" "Aunt Millie, what _are_ you doing?" as he caught sight of a photograph of himself, and a large copy on the easel. "I am crayoning--and" (this last a trifle averse) "I _had_ intended it as a surprise for mamma, to-morrow." The big blue eyes raised to hers had a suspicion of tears in them--she bent down quickly and gathered the little fellow in her arms. "Never mind, pet! I was a bit vexed, that you had discovered my secret." "Is it a _secret_?" in an awed tone; "well, I'll _keep_ it." "Do you think you really can, Jo?" "Yes," he said; "and _you_ can keep my strawberries," forgetting he had told her a dozen times before. "Well, I'll trust you."