when there was comparative quiet.

"Do, Polly," cried Joel, "and then leave one or two over."

"No," said Polly; "we can't have any, because these must be very
nice. Mammy, can't I have some white on top, just once?" she
pleaded.

"I don't know," dubiously replied Mrs. Pepper; ~eggs are dreadful
dear, and--"

"I don't care," said Polly, recklessly; "I must just once for Dr.
Fisher."

"I tell you, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "what you might do; you
might make him some little apple tarts--most every one likes them,
you know."

"Well," said Polly, with a sigh, "I s'pose they'll have to do; but
some time, mammy, I'm going to bake him a big cake, so there!"

A THREATENED BLOW

One day, a few weeks after, Mrs. Pepper and Polly were busy in
the kitchen. Phronsie was out in the "orchard," as the one scraggy
apple-tree was called by courtesy, singing her rag doll to sleep
under its sheltering branches. But "Baby" was cross and wouldn't
go to sleep, and Phronsie was on the point of giving up, and
returning to the house, when a strain of music made her pause with
dolly in her apron. There she stood with her finger in her mouth, in