[Illustration:  THE TEA-PARTY.]

This heap, however, was silent only for a moment.  Then a feeble cry struggled up through it,—­a cry which, reaching the upper air, grew loud, doubled itself, became two cries, and rushed out through a window, which, having lost its way, was where the roof ought to be.  Then growing fast and shrill, the cry ran toward the house, waking up the Brown baby, who at once joined in.  The rooster waked suddenly, and feeling that something had happened, thought it could do no harm to crow, and that agitated his household to the last hen.  Then to the cackling and crowing, Beppo added a bark of duty, and nearly turned inside out, tugging at his chain, and howling between times.  The canary began his scales, and the scream grew and grew and rushed into the house through every door and window.  Uncle John was reading the paper, but, hearing the fearful uproar, he dashed into the yard, turned back the house with one hand, with the other picked out from the heap of legs all the white ones, and dragged us from the wreck of our residence.  It was quickly done, but not too soon, for a little flame, which was hiding under the close mass of ruins, now hopped merrily up on the tarletan skirts of Alice Isabella, the prettiest of the dolls.

While we were being taken to grandma to be cried over and comforted, and the poor old house lay on its side forgotten, that flame finished off poor dolly, ran up to the roof, ate up the red-striped curtain in the twinkling of an eye, and, in fact, made short work of the whole thing.  We knew nothing of this that night, but were so honored and indulged as to make us think everything else had turned a new leaf as well as the house.

The next morning, grandma, coming into the breakfast-room, was called to the window by Uncle John, who was looking at something in the yard.  There was a forlorn little figure sitting on a log among the charred embers of the burnt house.  It was I, sobbing as if my heart would break, and beside me was Katy, who stood sadly by, trying with a corner of her apron to dry my tears.  But her eyes were wet, too, and in the fat arms were squeezed a leg and shoe, which was all that was left of Alice Isabella.

What wicked eye had watched the festivities through the window, or what cruel heart had yielded to the temptation to turn over the house upon it all, we never knew.  I heard that Billy Quinn was punished that night for coming home late to supper, and now, looking impartially at the matter over all these years, I am inclined to think it was that very Billy Quinn, and no other, who put out the tea-party.

THE FOX, THE MONKEY, AND THE PIG.

BY HOWARD PYLE.

[Illustration]

The fox, the monkey, and the pig were once inseparable companions.  As they were nearly always together, the fox’s thefts so far reflected upon his innocent associates, that they were all three held to be wicked animals.