[The above are some of the gleanings from the many letters received. Wish we had room for more. We are greatly pleased with your efforts to help on this department of THE PANSY. The main difficulty is, that many letters come too late to be of use. Notice the list of cities published in the December PANSY, and make a start three months ahead, then you will be sure to be on time.—EDITORS.] THE SPOOL-COTTON GIRL. PART II. “WHAT did you say?” This last sentence was addressed to a customer who had been standing for some seconds. “Green braid? No, we haven’t any to match that.” “Are you sure?” questioned the young girl anxiously. “Haven’t you a little darker, then? that will do.” [Illustration: THE LIBERTY BELL.] “No, we haven’t!” sharp-voiced and spiteful. “Saucy thing!” she added, as the girl turned away; “I told her I hadn’t; what business had she to ask again?” “O, Nellie! I don’t think you are sure. I think I found some in your upper row of boxes yesterday which would answer for the sample.” “Nonsense! as if you could tell without looking. I know I haven’t; I tumbled the whole lot over yesterday for a fussy woman, and I remember every shade in it. It is of no consequence, anyhow; a seven-cent braid! “O, Jean! look here; let me see your photographs. Are they good?” She had darted away to the counter below. Marion stood for a moment irresolute, then moved toward the girl. “Let me see it, please; I think I can match it.” The woman to whom she had sold a spool of thread turned at the sound of her voice and smiled on the girl. “Give it to her, Jennie, she will match it; she knows how,” she said. Marion answered the smile; her heart was warm over the simple words of commendation. She sought among the upper row of boxes for the one which her memory associated with yesterday’s shades, and found it. The girl made her seven-cent purchase and went away pleased, just as Nellie came back from her photographs. “Such a stupid day!” she yawned toward its close. “Not a person of importance has even passed our counter. I’ve sold about a dollar’s worth of goods to-day. How much have you done?” “Hardly that,” said Marion, smiling. “It has all been spools of cotton and darning needles. It has rained, you know, all day.” The next morning’s sun shone brightly, and the large store was thronged early in the day with shoppers. Both Marion and Nellie were busy, the latter not much pleasanter than she had been the day before; it all seemed such trivial work to her. “Are you sure you are not mistaken in the name?” one of the chiefs was saying, in a perplexed tone, to a lady who stood near Marion’s counter. “We have but one clerk of that name, and she is the youngest in the store.” “This one is quite young, and she sells spool cotton,” said the lady, catching Marion’s eye and smiling a recognition. She had laid aside the long gossamer, and was carefully dressed. “I have a fancy to be waited on by her.”