“Will you ask for me?” said the little stranger; “I don’t know Him very well.”
And Patty promised.
[Illustration: “I don’t believe sugar-sticks are good for little girls.”]
Uncle came in one cold evening, looking for all the world like a bear, Louie thought, in his big overcoat. He caught Louie up and gave her a real bear-hug, too.
“Hello, Mopsey! where’s Popsey?” he asked.
Popsey was Louie’s baby sister, two years old, and her name wasn’t Popsey any more than Louie’s name was Mopsey, but Uncle Jack was all the time calling folks funny names, Louie thought.
“Her’s gone to bed,” she said.
Then Uncle Jack put his hand in his pocket and made a great rustling with paper for a minute before he pulled out two red-and-white sugar-sticks and gave them to Louie. “It’s too bad that Popsey’s asleep,” said he. But I’m afraid Louie was rather glad of it.
“Aren’t you going to save one stick for Grace?” asked mama. Popsey’s real name was Grace.
“No,” said Louie, speaking low. “I don’t believe sugar-sticks are good for little girls. ’Sides, I want it myself.”
Just as she swallowed the last bit there came a little call from her bedroom: “Mama?”
“Hello!” said Uncle Jack, “Popsey’s awake!”
And in a minute, out she came in mama’s arms, rosy, and smiling, and dimpled.
Then there was another great rustling in Uncle Jack’s pocket, and pretty soon—
“This is for Popsey!” said Uncle Jack.
She took her two sugar-sticks in her dimpled hands and looked at them a second—dear little Popsey!—and then she held out the larger one to Louie.
[Illustration: "Dis for ’ou."]
“Dis for ’ou,” she cooed, “and dis for me!”
Poor Louie! She hung her head and blushed. Somehow she didn’t want to look at Uncle Jack or mama. Can you guess why?
“Dis for ’ou!” repeated Popsey, cheerfully, pushing the long sugar-stick into her hand.
“Take it, Louie,” said mama.
And Louie took it. But a little afterward mama overheard her tell Popsey:—
“I won’t never be such a greedy thing any more, Popsey, dear. And I’s always going to divide with you, all the time after this, long’s I live!”
[Illustration: “Suddenly, with a great effort, she began to sing.”]
A GIRL’S SONG
At the time of the terrible accident a year or two ago at the coal mines near Scranton, Penn., several men were buried for three days, and all efforts to rescue them proved unsuccessful.
The majority of the miners were Germans. They were in a state of intense excitement. Sympathy for the wives and children of the buried men, and despair at their own fruitless efforts, had rendered them almost frantic.