“Scarcely were the words spoken, when a troop of rude creatures came scampering into the walk, and a particularly unfeeling monster in curls, pointed to the beautiful up-standing little—­hms—­and shouted, ‘Aunt Judy, look at these horrible weeds!’

“I needn’t say any more,” concluded Aunt Judy.  “You know how you’ve used them; you know what you’ve done to them; you know how you’ve even wished there were no such things in the world!”

“Oh, Aunt Judy, how capital!” ejaculated No. 6, with a sigh, the sigh of exhausted amusement.

“’The hum was a weed too, then, was it?” said No. 8.  He did not quite see his way through the tale.

“It was not a weed in the meadow,” answered Aunt Judy, “where it was useful, and fed the Alderney cow.  It was beautiful Grass there, and was counted as such, because that was its proper place.  But when it put its nose into garden-walks, where it was not wanted, and had no business, then everybody called the beautiful Grass a weed.”

“So a weed is a vegetable out of its place, you see,” subjoined No. 5, who felt the idea to be half his own, “and it won’t do to wish there were none in the world.”

“And a vegetable out of its place being nothing better than a weed, Mr. No. 5,” added Aunt Judy, “it won’t do to be too anxious about what is so often falsely called, bettering your condition in life.  Come, the story is done, and now we’ll go home, and all the patient listeners and weeders may reckon upon getting one or more farthings apiece from mamma.  And as No. 6’s wish is not realized, and there are still weeds {1} in the world, and among them Grass weeds, I shall hope to have some cream to my tea.”

COOK STORIES.

“Down too, down at your own fireside,
With the evil tongue and the evil ear,
For each is at war with mankind.” 
TENNYSON’S Maud.

Aunt Judy had gone to the nursery wardrobe to look over some clothes, and the little ones were having a play to themselves.  As she opened the door, they were just coming to the end of an explosive burst of laughter, in which all the five appeared to have joined, and which they had some difficulty in stopping.  No. 4, who was a biggish girl, had giggled till the tears were running over her cheeks; and No. 8, in sympathy, was leaning back in his tiny chair in a sort of ecstasy of amusement.

The five little ones had certainly hit upon some very entertaining game.

They were all (boys and girls alike) dressed up as elderly ladies, with bits of rubbishy finery on their heads and round their shoulders, to imitate caps and scarfs; the boys’ hair being neatly parted and brushed down the middle; and they were seated in form round what was called “the Doll’s Table,” a concern just large enough to allow of a small crockery tea-service, with cups and saucers and little plates, being set out upon it.