Ma wanted a good, new picture of me; so pa says, "'Lizabeth Ann, You come down town at noon to-day, and we'll go to the picture man; But don't tell mother--we'll have a surprise for her on Christmas day, And give her a real nice photograft--I know just what she will say." "Oh, goody!" I says, "I am awful glad! I'll be there at noon, you see." (I like to have a secret with pa--it's awful much fun for me.) I runned away at 'leven o'clock, and ma didn't see me go, Although I had dressed in my very best--and that takes time, you know-- My party frock, and my best kid shoes; my furs and my "picture" hat, And my new red coat--the one she says, "Be careful, my dear, of that." And when I got to his office, pa looked awful surprised, and said, "Dear me, what a dressed-up little girl! Why, really, you turn my head!" And then we went to the picture man. He's nice enough, I s'pose, But what do you think he said to me? "You seem to be mostly clothes!" So pa and the man made me _undress_, till all that I had on me Was my shirtwaist slip--my arms and neck was bare as they both could be! It made me feel umbarrassed! And then I guess that I nearly cried, But pa just patted me on the head and said _he_ was satisfied. And now the pictures are finished up, and one is already framed; But ma'll be mad, I am pretty sure--I know that _I_ feel ashamed; For all that you see is my head and neck--and not a bit of my dress-- She'll think I was funny to go down-town with so little on, I guess! Yet pa says, "Never you mind, my dear--blame it on me or the man; But mother will like it, you see if she don't--she wanted _you_, 'Lizabeth Ann." THE SMALL BOY EXPLAINS Some people say the sky is blue Acause it's warshed by rains up there; I dunno if 'at's so, do you? And I don't care--and I don't care! I ain't no sky, an' I don't like To have my face warshed, anyhow; My nurse says I'm a "naughty tike To run away" or raise a row. But ef she daubed mud on like this A-purpose, so's the boys would play With her--and not call her a "sis," She'd hate to warsh it all away! That's why the blue sky'll never mean A in-spi-ra-tion er a "joy"; A-course it can be nice an' clean-- It won't be called a "sissy-boy." THE BOLD LOVER He held her hand, and joy shone in his eyes; The world and all therein to him was fair; What mattered now the gloomy, lowering skies? For what the future held he did not care! He only knew he loved her and that she Was everything a real sweetheart should be. He held her hand.... The car was crowded, too; The passengers could not suppress their smiles. The love he felt, perhaps, obscured his view, So wrapt was he in all her pretty wiles. And when he kissed her rosy lips, a hush Fell on them as they saw her slowly blush!