“I am sure I don’t know,” said papa, who just then entered the room. “The city changes so rapidly and adds so many fancy names that I cannot keep track of it. Who wants to know—Edward? There is a map about somewhere. I shouldn’t wonder if Ashman Square was down near the old Ashman place, towards the river.” “There!” said Emma, “I was sure it was near the river.” “But the river is quite a stream, my dear niece,” Uncle Edward said, smiling. “Yes; but Ashman Square is not very far down; it is near the Westfield car line.” Then a perfect babel of voices ensued. “O, Emma, no!” “Emma Edwards! it is a quarter of a mile from the Eastman line, I am certain.” “I don’t think Ashman Square is on this side at all; I think you are all confused.” “Yes, it is; I pass it every day, but I don’t remember on which side of the avenue it is. I go down one way and come up another, and so get things mixed.” “I don’t think any of you know much about it,” said Uncle Edward, and this time he laughed. Several voices began again in eager disclaimer, but Father Edwards silenced them: “See here, children, we must have prayers at once; I have an important engagement at seven. Afterwards, one of you can find a map and settle your discussion.” Lora struck the chord and the entire family joined in: “While Thee I seek, protecting Power, Be my vain wishes stilled.” In the momentary lull which there was as they rose from their knees, Howard spoke, for the first time that evening. “Uncle Edward.” “Yes.” “About Ashman Square—do you know where the Station D post-office is?” “Perfectly.” “Well, Ashman Square begins two blocks east of that.” “So it does!” declared Lora; “why in the world didn’t some of us think of the post-office? that would have located it.” “I never noticed how near it was to the post-office,” said Emma. “What I would like to know is, why Howard did not speak before, and save us all this talk.” “Sure enough!” said Dickie. “Did you find the answer to that conundrum in your Latin dictionary? Why didn’t you look up, old fellow, and join the colloquy?” “Couldn’t get a chance,” said Howard, with a good-natured smile; “you all had a great deal to say, and were bent on saying it, all at once; I thought I would keep still until the shower was over, and in the meantime a grain of fact might be evolved out of it; but there wasn’t.” “Howard always waits until there is clear sailing,” said Lora. “I’ve noticed that he is the only one in our family who isn’t apparently burning to speak at the same moment when some one else is.” “And when he does speak it is to the point,” said Uncle Edward. “Much obliged, my boy; you have saved me a bewildering tramp in the effort to follow the directions of these voluble young ladies.” MYRA SPAFFORD. ABOUT BOSTON. BY THE PANSIES.