"And a most instructive and entertaining work it will be," cried Laura. "I shall buy up a whole edition to give to my friends, shan't I, baby? Mamma, what a mistake you made in giving me the name you did," she ran gaily on. "All the Lauras one reads about in books are such proper creatures! See Miss Edgworth's stories, for instance. Look at her Lauras. But really, now, what _is_ your next book to be?" Mrs. Grey smiled and shook her head. "Very well, if you won't tell me, I shan't tell you what mine is to be." "_Yours!_" cried everybody, amused and incredulous. "Oh, I don't see anything to laugh at," protested Laura. "Pray why shouldn't I write books as well as mamma?" "Mamma didn't begin at your age," said Belle. "She began about as soon as she was born; and so would you if you had inherited her gifts." "That doesn't follow," said Laura. "And I have hit upon a capital subject! Now just listen." And in an animated way she imparted her secret. "It _is_ capital," said Belle. "But it is foolish to proclaim it. Next news some one will get hold of it and cut you out." "Yes; I think so, too," said Mrs. Grey. "I shouldn't mind cutting you out myself." "If you did, it would be your first dishonorable action," said Belle. The children were all brought in now, and had a frolic till bed-time, when they were escorted off by mammas and nurses, and Mrs. Grey and Margaret were left alone. "Oh, aunty," said Margaret, as the door closed, "I do wish _I_ had a baby!" "I don't see that I can help you to one," was the reply. "But I am glad to see your love for the little folks, and when Belle goes home, I think I can persuade her to leave Mabel with us for a while." "Oh, she'll never do that. Mabel is such a perfect little darling!" "I have usually charge of the last robin while a new one is settling into the nest. It keeps me young, and it relieves Belle. In fact, what with one thing and another, there are almost always some of the little ones here." "I'm so glad! so glad! I shall take the whole care of them." "And at the same time study, draw, paint, and dabble with a thousand other things?" "I can study evenings. As to painting--why, aunty, it's nice to paint; but there isn't any picture in the world to be compared to a little live baby!" "I haven't seen all the pictures in the world," said Mrs. Grey; "but I do not doubt that God makes objects of beauty that man can, at best, only imitate. Margaret, my child, do you know how relieved, how thankful I am, to find this true womanly instinct so strong in you? I have been afraid you might live in the mere gifts of genius you must know you possess, and crowd out the feminine element. But you are safe. A little child shall lead you." "Why, aunty, I never knew I had any gifts," Margaret whispered.