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I knew it! I was sure that if some one would only love me, I should lose my ugly face.

I can see it myself, sometimes, for there's a light in my eyes that makes my heart beat with pleasure, when I look at myself in the mirror. Ah! I see love! love! and happiness there. I see hope in the beautiful future, a life here of hoping and helping, of waiting and working and whatever comes, I'll believe in Aunt Mercy's motto till I die -- "It's all for the best."

This little story produced a profound impression upon the audience.

"I wonder who she was?" cried Tilly. "I know she lived and suffered, I know she did. I have felt just as she did."

"But it don't seem for the best when people suffer all their lives," said Kate Waters.

"Don't you know?" queried Tilly, gravely, "what she said? We all have wings in our souls? I've thought of that often, and if all eternity is so impossible to comprehend, and we're to live and be happy forever and ever, what does it signify?"

The child looked beautiful with her glowing eyes and crimsoned cheeks. There she sat before them a living example of that hope and patience of which they had been reading. For years she had not used her feet; for years, brain and arms only had been active in that poor, crippled body, and wearisome hours had she passed, her only sources of pleasure the narrow strip of garden where she could catch the color of tree and flower, and the books, and the kind words of a few good friends, who called in to while away her loneliness.

"Then you think it's for the best that you are sick all the time?" said Nellie Maxwell.

"Sure does she," spoke up her mother, briskly, "and she puts me to shame often, my own child, that she do. For I worry about it, and pine and fret, but she always has the smile, and the word of cheer, always. It's I that have the lack of faith, not she."

"Another story, young ladies," said Anne, rattling the manuscript; "time is passing. Who will read this one, written by Aunt Nellie? I appoint Rose Allen."

Rose, a pretty girl of thirteen, and one of the best readers in the little association, went forward without hesitation, and took her seat at the table, while Tilly looked forward with eager interest to the story, entitled --

I should like something so entirely different from anything I ever heard of, for my birth-day present," said Eva Dimple, standing in the midst of a group of school girls.

"I wonder what you will get?" queried Janet McComb, looking curiously at her. "You are an only child, and your parents are rich. Why! in all these birth-days you must have received -- everything,"

"How would you like an ourangoutang?" asked Hattie Green, with a smile, not lifting her eyes from her knitting. My Cousin Henry is expected home before New Year's, and he promised to bring me one."

"It would be a change, at least," laughed Eva, verifying her name as the dimples broke over cheek and chin.

"I could treat you to a dried alligator, or a South American water-horse," said Janet, "but as papa is only a poor country doctor, I'm afraid I couldn't do better."

"Give me one of your beautiful water colors, Janet, that will please me above all things," said Eva. "It don't matter how poor one is, if one only has genius, I think."

Hattie looked up with a quick, pleased smile, but was silent.

"Pray, Eva, what did you have for your last year's present?" asked one of the girls.

"A walnut set for my room, a sewing machine, and a new grand piano."

There was a general exclamation.

"And the year before?"

"My first set of nice furs, a music box, and a splendid edition of Shakespeare. Every year, of course, as I grow older and more valuable, I have finer presents. I wonder what I shall have this year?"

"Have you set your heart upon anything?" asked Hattie, in her usually grave way.

Eva shook her head.

"I did begin to long for a real camel's hair shawl, but mamma never likes me to have extravagant things in the way of dress. I may, possibly, have another set of furs, but my old ones are still good. I shall be sure to have some new stereoscope views, because I always do, and as Uncle George will be home from Paris just in time, I think it likely he will remember me."

"O, of course he will; dear me, how nice it must be to be an only child!"

Eva's face saddened a little; "I would give all my fine things for a brother or a sister," she said, after a moment's pause. "Dearly as I love mamma and papa, I do so dread being at home without a companion of my own age. It will be very lonesome to me, after I graduate, I am so accustomed to all your society. Wherever I see two sisters together, or a brother and sister sharing each other's joys and sorrows, I can hardly help crying. But bow silly I am!" and she wiped a few tears from her eyes, "It must best for me, or it would be other-wise."

"We'll all be your sisters," cried Hattie. "I don't wonder you feel lonesome; what should I do without Charley? I don't care so much for girls, but to have a brother, of whose progress you are proud, and who, you know, loves you dearly, that is something to be proud of."