Wee Wifie. Rosa Nouchette Carey

were closed on all that related to his home life. She could speak of his school-fellows and studies, but of his grandfather, and of his new pony and fine gun she would not speak, or even care to hear about them. When he took her his boyish gifts they were quietly but firmly returned to him. Even poor little Florence, or Fluff as they called her, was obliged to give back the blue-eyed doll that he had bought for her. Fluff had fretted so about the loss of the doll that her mother had bought her another.

      Percy carried away his gifts, and did not come for a long time. His mother’s white wistful face seemed to put him in the wrong. “Any other fellow would have done the same under the circumstances,” thought Percy, sullenly; “I think my mother is too hard on me;” but even his conscience misgave him, when he would see her turn away sometimes with the tears in her eyes, after one of his boasting speeches. He was too young to be hardened. He knew, yes, surely he must have known? that he was grieving the tenderest heart in the world, and one day he would own that not all his grandfather’s wealth could compensate him for being a traitor to his mother.