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HALF A DOZEN BOYS.

“Good-night! good-night!” screamed a chorus, as they darted out into the snow, where Phil at once stumbled and fell into a drift, from which he was pulled by Rob and Bert.

Bess returned to the parlor fire and sat down on the rug, while Fuzz, his paw now freed from his candy, climbed into her lap and imprinted sticky caresses on her nose. As she sat there, thinking over her boys, her mother joined her.

“Well, Bessie, has it been a success?”

“I should think so! How funny the boys are! Ted will wear me out with his constant ‘dandy;’ that is his great word now. But Rob is the boy of them all. Mother, next time I’ll have Fred here, if I have to bring him by force.”

“I wish you could. Would it do any good to ask him up here for a day or two? I shouldn’t mind him in the least, and it might be a change for him.”

“I wish he would come. That house is the worst place for him. His parents neglect him, the servants coddle him, and he tyrannizes over them all. He needs a good, wholesome, everyday atmosphere.”