“Dexie, don’t let your tongue run away with you,” her father said, reprovingly.  “Plaisted will surely be up in good time to-morrow, as we have much work ahead of us if we intend to catch the train.”

“Yes, I’ll be up to-morrow morning without fail,” he replied.  “I don’t see how it is that I oversleep myself so often when I am here; I fully intended to get up to breakfast this morning, but missed it.  However, you will see me to-morrow morning at the breakfast table, Miss Dexie, if I am alive,” he added jokingly, as he waved a good-night to Gussie.

“Very well; but if you are not up in time we shan’t wait for you,” said Dexie, smiling, “for dead men need no breakfast.”

“Oh! you’ll see, Miss Dexie, I’ll be up to-morrow in time, without fail,” and he laughed as he disappeared up the stairs.

But when eight o’clock came next morning, it brought no Plaisted with it, and Dexie horrified them by asking if they had better go up and view the remains.

Breakfast was eaten in silence.  Mr. Sherwood was vexed at Plaisted’s laziness when there was so much need of energetic work to make up for time lost and wasted.

“Perhaps he did not hear the bell,” said Gussie, as the clock struck nine.  “I’ll ring it again,” which she did, vigorously.

But another hour slipped by, and still he did not appear, much to Dexie’s disgust and annoyance.

While standing by the window waiting his appearance, she became aware of a great event that was taking place in the backyard.  It happened that a pet cat had met with some accident that had deprived it of life, and the children were indulging in a funeral.  A grave had been dug at the back corner of the yard, and the procession of mourners was marching back and forth across the yard with many twists and turns, to make it last longer, until it at last reached the open grave.  Georgie Sherwood, who marched in the front of the procession, with the remains in a raisin-box, now deposited it in its last resting-place, while the little Gurneys, who were sedately following, wailed aloud.

When the grave was covered to their satisfaction, Frankie Gurney came into the house with Georgie, holding a piece of smooth, white marble, and asked Dexie if she would write something on it, for it was to be the cat’s tombstone.

“Say that she was the prettiest and best-behaved cat in Halifax, and that she left a large family of sorrowing kittens behind her.”

“Yes, and children, too.  Be sure and say that, Dexie,” added Georgie.

The inscription was soon written in Dexie’s largest and clearest hand, and it delighted the eyes of the little ones, who could easily read every word.

“Where did you get such a nice stone, Frankie?” she asked.

“Oh, down in the grave-stone shop.  The man told me I could have it.”

A sudden thought came into her mind, and she smiled as she asked: 

“Could you get another piece as big as that, do you think?”