who is in earnest to be good, carries two fairies about with him,--one
here," and he touched my heart, "and one here," and he touched my
forehead.

"I don't understand, papa."

"I can wait till you do, Pisistratus. What a name!"

My father stopped at a nursery gardener's, and after looking over the
flowers, paused before a large double geranium. "Ah! this is finer than
that which your mamma was so fond of. What is the cost, sir?"

"Only 7s. 6d.," said the gardener.

My father buttoned up his pocket. "I can't afford it to-day," said he,
gently, and we walked out.

On entering the town, we stopped again at a china warehouse. "Have you
a flower-pot like that I bought some months ago? Ah! here is one,
marked 3s. 6d. Yes, that is the price. Well; when your mamma's
birthday comes again, we must buy her another. That is some months to
wait. And we can wait, Master Sisty. For truth, that blooms all the
year round, is better than a poor geranium; and a word that is never
broken, is better than a piece of delf."

My head, which had drooped before, rose again; but the rush of joy at my
heart almost stifled me.

"I have called to pay your little bill," said my father, entering the
shop of one of those fancy stationers common in country towns, and who