“Oh, Bert, woe is me! To think that I aided and abetted in this miserable business by encouraging Cathy to become independent, and so allowed her brother Fred to engage my sister for a wife!” “You gave me a sister!” cried Cathy, as she tipped over her chair in an excited rush at Evelyn, whom she clasped in her arms, crying a little for joy, although her brother had partly prepared her for the glad news,—while Bert exclaimed heartily: “You have my blessing, Evelyn dear!—And are there any more secrets to be divulged? Nan, you are in the designing business. Is there any decorative youth in view?” “Not for me!” laughed Nan. “But, Bert, where has all your money gone? I expected you to ask me to accompany you and some delightful chaperon to Europe this summer, at your expense.” “Oh, I frittered my funds away!” she cried. “Come, come; let us toast the marsh-mallows. Light the droplight, Evelyn. Where are the hat-pins?” “Now, Bert,” said Evelyn, seriously, “I have found out your secret, and I’m going to tell——” But Bert had escaped and was flying upstairs, while Evelyn continued: “She has given a library to the working-girls’ association, and all that the world knows is that it came from ‘a girl who is thankful to have found out how much better work is than idleness.’ That’s what Bert has done with her money!” THE END. IN THE GARDEN. BY BESSIE CHANDLER. We were working in the garden, My little boy and I, Both digging weeds, And planting seeds To blossom by and by. “Here is some pop-corn, dear,” I said, “I’ll give you for your own; To plant and hoe, And watch it grow, And have it when it’s grown.” He took the kernels eagerly, His little hoe he dropped, Then, out he burst:— “Let’s pop it first, So it will come up popped!” [Illustration: THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN’S GIG.] BY REV. CHARLES R. TALBOT. The Fair Rosamond, sloop yacht, N. Y. Y. C., lay at anchor off the east shore of Cape Cod Bay, her polished brasswork and white hull glittering like gold and silver in the morning sunlight. No one was visible on board, forward or aft, until presently a youthful form showed itself above the cabin hatch, halting there a moment to survey the scene, and then stepping forth in full view upon the deck. This was Jasper. The noticeable things about Jasper were his homely, freckled face, his slim, ungainly figure, and his intensely solemn air. One would have thought, to look at him, that he was the most sober person in the world, whereas, in point of fact, he was never known to be serious two minutes at a time, and was forever making fun. He stood there for several moments, his hands in the pockets of his yachting jacket, yawning lazily and looking forward along the deck.