"Half a dozen is too many at once," said Ellen, gaily; — "three now, and three to-night." So she gave the old gentleman three kisses, but he caught her in his arms and gave her a dozen at least; after which he found out that the waiter was holding a cup of coffee at his elbow, and Ellen went back to her place with a very good appetite for her breakfast. After breakfast the needlecases were delivered. Both gave the most entire satisfaction. Mrs. Chauncey assured her daughter that she would quite as lief have a yellow as a red rose on the cover, and that she liked the inscription extremely; which the little girl acknowledged to have been a joint device of her own and Ellen's. Ellen's bag gave great delight, and was paraded all over the house. After the bustle of thanks and rejoicing was at last over, and when she had a minute to herself, which Ellen Chauncey did not give her for a good while, Ellen bethought her of her flowers— a sweet gift still to be made. Why not make it now? why should not Alice have the pleasure of them all day? A bright thought! Ellen ran forthwith to the house-keeper's room, and after a long, admiring look at her treasures, carried them, glass and all, to the library, where Alice and John often were in the morning alone. Alice thanked her in the way she liked best, and then the flowers were smelled and admired afresh. "Nothing could have been pleasanter to me, Ellie, except Mr. Marshman's gift." "And what was that, Alice? I haven't seen it yet." Alice pulled out of her pocket a small, round, morocco case, the very thing that Ellen had thought looked like a dumpling under the napkin, and opened it. "It's Mr. John!" exclaimed Ellen. "Oh, how beautiful!" Neither of her hearers could help laughing. "It is very fine, Ellie," said Alice; "you are quite right. Now I know what was the business that took John to Randolph every day, and kept him there so long, while I was wondering at him unspeakably. Kind, kind Mr. Marshman!" "Did Mr. John get anything?" "Ask him, Ellie." "Did you get anything, Mr. John?" said Ellen, going up to him where he was reading on the sofa. "I got this," said John, handing her a little book which lay beside him. "What is this! Wime's — Wiem's — Life of Washington — Washington? he was — may I look at it?" "Certainly!" She opened the book, and presently sat down on the floor where she was, by the side of the sofa. Whatever she had found within the leaves of the book, she had certainly lost herself. An hour passed. Ellen had not spoken or moved except to turn over leaves. "Ellen!" said John. She looked up — her cheeks coloured high. "What have you found there?" said he, smiling. "Oh, a great deal! But — did Mr. Marshman give you this?" "No." "O!" said Ellen, looking puzzled, "I thought you said you got this this morning." "No, I got it last night. I got it for you, Ellie."