"Don't let it take your appetite away," crooned Mrs. Cobb. "I've got cream biscuit and honey for you. If the turpentine don't work, I'll try French chalk, magneshy, and warm suds. If they fail, father shall run over to Strout's and borry some of the stuff Marthy got in Milltown to take the currant pie out of her weddin' dress." "I ain't got to understandin' this paintin' accident yet," said uncle Jerry jocosely, as he handed Rebecca the honey. "Bein' as how there's 'Fresh Paint' signs hung all over the breedge, so 't a blind asylum couldn't miss 'em, I can't hardly account for your gettin' int' the pesky stuff." "I didn't notice the signs," Rebecca said dolefully. "I suppose I was looking at the falls." "The falls has been there sence the beginnin' o' time, an' I cal'late they'll be there till the end on 't; so you needn't 'a' been in sech a brash to git a sight of 'em. Children comes turrible high, mother, but I s'pose we must have 'em!" he said, winking at Mrs. Cobb. When supper was cleared away Rebecca insisted on washing and wiping the dishes, while Mrs. Cobb worked on the dress with an energy that plainly showed the gravity of the task. Rebecca kept leaving her post at the sink to bend anxiously over the basin and watch her progress, while uncle Jerry offered advice from time to time. "You must 'a' laid all over the breedge, deary," said Mrs. Cobb; "for the paint 's not only on your elbows and yoke and waist, but it about covers your front breadth." As the garment began to look a little better Rebecca's spirits took an upward turn, and at length she left it to dry in the fresh air, and went into the sitting-room. "Have you a piece of paper, please?" asked Rebecca. "I'll copy out the poetry I was making while I was lying in the paint." Mrs. Cobb sat by her mending basket, and uncle Jerry took down a gingham bag of strings and occupied himself in taking the snarls out of them,--a favorite evening amusement with him. Rebecca soon had the lines copied in her round school-girl hand, making such improvements as occurred to her on sober second thought. THE TWO WISHES BY REBECCA RANDALL Two maidens by a river strayed, 'T was in the state of Maine. Rebecca was the darker one, The fairer, Emma Jane. The fairer maiden said, "I would My life were as the stream; So peaceful, and so smooth and still, So pleasant and serene." "I'd rather be a little drop In the great rushing fall; I'd never choose the quiet lake; 'T would not please me at all." (It was the darker maiden spoke The words we just have stated; The maidens twain were simply friends, Not sisters, or related.) But O! alas! we may not have The things we hope to gain. The quiet life may come to me, The rush to Emma Jane! She read it aloud, and the Cobbs thought it not only surpassingly beautiful, but a marvelous production.