"There, Ned," says Tom, coming down the stairs, "I've found out just what mother wants, without telling her a word about it." But the crowning mystery of all the great family arcana, the thing that was going to astonish papa and mamma past all recovery, was certain projected book marks, that little Ally was going to be made to work for them. This bold scheme was projected by Miss Emma, and she had armed herself with a whole paper of sugar plums, to be used as adjuvants to moral influence, in case the discouragements of the undertaking should prove too much for Ally's patience. As to Ally, she felt all the dignity of the enterprise--her whole little soul was absorbed in it. Seated on Emma's knee, with the needle between her little fat fingers, and holding the board very tight, as if she was afraid it would run away from her, she very gravely and carefully stuck the needle in every place but the right--pricked her pretty fingers--ate sugar plums--stopping now to pat Rover, and now to stroke pussy--letting fall her thimble, and bustling down to pick it up--occasionally taking an episodical race round the room with Rover, during which time Sister Emma added a stitch or two to the work. I would not wish to have been required, on oath, to give in my undisguised opinion as to the number of stitches the little one really put into her present, but she had a most genuine and firm conviction that she worked every stitch of it herself; and when, on returning from a scamper with pussy, she found one or two letters finished, she never doubted that the whole was of her own execution, and, of course, thought that working book marks was one of the most delightful occupations in the world. It was all that her little heart could do to keep from papa and mamma the wonderful secret. Every evening she would bustle about her father with an air of such great mystery, and seek to pique his curiosity by most skilful hints, such as,-- "I know somefing! but I s'ant tell you." "Not tell me! O Ally! Why not?" "O, it's about--a New 'Ear's pes----" "Ally, Ally," resounds from several voices, "don't you tell." "No, I s'ant--but you are going to have a New 'Ear's pesant, and so is mamma, and you can't dess what it is." "Can't I?" "No, and I s'ant tell you." "Now, Ally," said papa, pretending to look aggrieved. "Well, it's going to be--somefin worked." "Ally, be careful," said Emma. "Yes, I'll be very tareful; it's somefin--_weall_ pretty--somefin to put in a book. You'll find out about it by and by." "I think I'm in a fair way to," said the father. The conversation now digressed to other subjects, and the nurse came in to take Ally to bed; who, as she kissed her father, in the fulness of her heart, added a fresh burst of information. "Papa," said she, in an earnest whisper, "that _fin_ is about so long"--measuring on her fat little arm. "A _fin_, Ally? Why, you are not going to give me a fish, are you?"