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HALF A DOZEN BOYS.

“Fred?”

“Of course I can’t tell yet what I can do,” said Fred thoughtfully. Then, suddenly turning to Bess with a smile, he went on: “What I want most of all is to be your faithful soldier.”

“And Sam has always said that he’d rather be a good mechanic than anything else,” added Bert. “That accounts for us all, Miss Bessie. How do you like the assortment?”

“Very much,” answered Bess. “I can have Bert to cure my body, and Phil my soul, while Ted shall survey my garden, and Rob shall make a collection of the insects that devour my crops. Fred I shall keep to fight for me and with me. Then, at the end of every year, we will all meet and talk over our battles, and make our plans for the next campaign. And now, my boys, it is growing late, and I must send you away. But, before you go, I am going to bring in some water, and we’ll drink a health to the Old Year that has given us so much, and taken away one dear one from the half-dozen boys.”

As they stood grouped about her, Bess slowly repeated the toast,—