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HALF A DOZEN BOYS.

“Fred, do you think me a dragon?” asked Bess, soberly. “Now tell me truly, are you sorry you came out to-day? Even if you are a little tired, won’t the old sofa feel all the better for the change?” And while she waited for his reply, she looked with pleasure at the clear, bright color that the wind had brought into his cheeks.

“No, I don’t know as I’m sorry, as long as you came too. But it’s no fun driving alone, and mother’s too busy to go with me.”

There was a pause, and then he suddenly asked,—

“Miss Bess, what makes you so good to me?”

“Good, to have a pleasant drive with my boy. I didn’t suppose that showed any great virtue. But,” added Bess more seriously, “I want to teach my boy to make the very best of his life. You have one hard, hard sorrow to bear, dear; but you have ever so many pleasant things to enjoy, if you only think of it: your home,” here Bessie caught her breath, as a vision of Mrs. Allen crossed her mind, then went on calmly, “all your friends, who care so