They had brought pretty gifts for each one of the children: a series of books for Nellie,—for they knew her tastes; a wax doll for Carrie; and a doll's tea-set for Daisy. So it was no wonder if the white mice were for the time forgotten in the children's delight over their new treasures.

Carrie's doll was the handsomest one she had ever owned; not by any means equal to Nellie's nonpareil, it is true, but she was more than contented with it.

Nellie was equally pleased with her books; but after looking at the pictures, and seeing "how very interesting" the series looked, she resolutely put them away, and devoted herself to the entertainment of her aunts, believing that as "mamma's housekeeper" a part of this duty devolved upon her. Moreover, she found that her "help" was needed by her mother in certain little preparations for this unexpected company. Perhaps in her new zeal she did more than was needful, and might have left some things to the servants; but her mother was so glad to see her occupied and content without her beloved study books, that she put no check upon her.

Carrie, too, being very anxious to carry out her new resolution of making herself of use to mamma, was very busy, and more than once had her fingers where they were not wanted. She ended her performances by a mistake which alarmed her very much, believing as she did that she had done great mischief.

The grocery-man having brought several articles from the store at a time when it was not convenient for the cook to attend to them at once, they had been left standing upon the kitchen porch. Such as were to go to the store-room were by Nellie's direction now carried there; but there were others which were to be left under the cook's care, among them some rock-salt and some saltpetre.

Carrie being, as I have said, seized with the desire of making herself useful, went peering from one to another of these things. Seeing the salt in one bucket, and the saltpetre in another, neither of the vessels being full, and not knowing there was any difference between them, she thought the one pail would hold both, and forthwith emptied the one into the other.

"An' whatever have ye been about then, Miss Carrie?" she heard the next instant from Catherine the cook, and the woman stood beside her with uplifted hands, looking from the empty bucket to the full one. "If she ain't been and emptied all the salt-pater into me rock-salt," she cried to one of the other servants who was near.

"Oh my! and saltpetre explodes and goes off sometimes, when it is put with other things," called Nellie, who had heard from the store-room. "Children, come away from it; it might be dangerous."

Away went Carrie, frightened half out of her senses, and, rushing into the room where her mother sat with her aunts, cried in a tone of great distress,—

"Oh! mamma, mamma, I've put all the Peter salt into the other salt, and Nellie thinks we'll blow up."

The smile with which her mother and the other ladies heard this alarming announcement somewhat reassured her, and she soon learned that she had done no such very great harm; but, her brothers Johnny and Bob hearing the story, it was long before she heard the last of the "Peter salt."

With so much else to think about, it is not very surprising that the little girls should forget the white mice; and, even up to the time of their leaving home to go to Mrs. Bradford's house, Nellie did not remember to ask her mother if she would object to them.

Daisy, mindful of the advantage she had gained in the morning, and very much enjoying the position of affairs, was extremely coy and coquettish with Frankie this afternoon; while he, anxious to return to his old standpoint with her, would have given her every thing she fancied, and courted her favor by every means in his power. So you may be sure that he repeated his offer of the white mice, for which he really did not care much, so that it was no great act of generosity to give them up to his young lady-love.

"They're my own, my very own," said the delighted child, showing her prize to Nellie, and the others. "Frankie says so. Just see this one run up my arm, and the ofer one is way down in my pottet. Oh! they're so cunning, and my very own. There comes that one out of my pottet."

Daisy was too much absorbed with her mice to notice the grave, doubtful face with which Nellie heard her, and watched the tame little creatures as they ran over her hands and arms, and up to her shoulder. Nellie could not bear to damp her little sister's pleasure, but she feared that her mother would be nervous and troubled by their presence.

"Did you ask your mamma if Daisy could have them?" asked Maggie, noticing the expression of her face, and guessing the cause.

"No, I quite forgot it," answered Nellie; "and I can't bear to disappoint the dear little thing; and yet—and yet—I am 'most sure mamma will not like to have them about."

"I don't believe she'd mind," said Bessie. "Our Aunt Annie is dreadfully afraid of real mice, but she don't mind those white ones a bit."

"Suppose you take them home with you, and see what your mamma says," suggested Maggie. "If she will not let Daisy keep them, then you could bring them back to-morrow; but I feel 'most sure she will not be willing to disappoint Daisy. Just see how delighted she looks, Nellie."

"Or if your mamma won't let Daisy keep them, Johnny could bring them back to-night," said Bessie.

Nellie was still doubtful; but it was quite true that she herself could not bear to check Daisy's delight by even a hint that their mother would not admire or tolerate the white mice; and, though against her better judgment, she resolved to let the child carry them home, and then act as circumstances, or rather mamma's wishes, dictated. It would have been better to have told Daisy at once, Nellie knew that; but she always shrank from inflicting pain, or saying that which was disagreeable to another; and, besides, she had a faint hope that her mother might not so much mind the white mice. Miss Annie Stanton's example was an encouraging one in this matter.

So after an afternoon pleasantly spent in play, during which Daisy could scarcely be persuaded to part from her new pets for a single moment, the Ransom children said good-by to their young friends, and turned their faces homeward.

Daisy walked sedately along by Nellie's side, not skipping and jumping as was her wont, lest she should disturb the precious white mice, one of which lay curled in her "pottet," the other in a box also given to her by Frankie, which she held tenderly clasped with both hands to her breast. The child's face was radiant as she talked of her treasures, and every now and then peeped within the box where one of them lay; and Nellie, watching and listening to her, was ready to believe that mamma could not and would not have any fear of the pretty little things.

Still!

She, Nellie, had intended to be the first to speak to her mother of the white mice, and to tell Daisy to keep them out of sight till mamma should hear of them, and her permission be gained to bring them into the house. She was just about to speak to Daisy as they entered the gate, when her attention was called for the moment by Johnny, who begged her to help him unravel a knot in his fish-line, knowing well—impetuous fellow!—that her patient fingers were better at that than his own stronger but less careful ones.

All that needed patience and gentleness it seemed natural to bring to steady, painstaking Nellie.

But just at the moment that she was engaged with Johnny's line, and when she had for the time forgotten Daisy and the white mice, the little one spied her mother coming out upon the piazza; and, anxious to display her prize, she scampered away over the lawn as fast as her feet could carry her, Carrie following.

"Mamma, mamma!" cried Daisy as she reached her mother's side, "dear mamma, just see what Frankie Bradford gave me. All for my own, my very own, to keep for ever, an' ever, an' ever, he said so."

And, plunging her hand into her pocket, she brought forth one mouse and laid it in triumph on her mother's lap; then, opening the box, thrust the other beneath her very eyes, her own chubby face fairly brimming over with dimples and smiles.

Mrs. Ransom turned a shade paler, shrank back a little, then with a forced smile said,—

"Yes, darling, very pretty. I dare say you are very much pleased; but suppose you put this little fellow in the box with his brother. It is a better place for him than mamma's lap."

"Oh, no! mamma, he'd just as lieve stay in your lap," said Daisy. "He's not a bit af'aid of you. He likes peoples. See, he'll run right up your arm;" and, taking the mouse up, she would have laid it upon her mother's hand, had not Mrs. Ransom drawn back with an unmistakable shudder and expression of disgust which struck even the unconscious Daisy.

"Don't, darling, don't," she said hurriedly, but gently, unwilling to wound her little girl, or to give her any dread of the harmless creatures, but still feeling that she could not bear them near her. "Take them away, my pet: you know mamma does not like mice."

"They're not weally mice, mamma," said the little one, opening great astonished eyes at her mother, but at the same time obeying her words and drawing farther away with her mice,—"they're only white ones, not weally ones."

"Yes, darling," said her mother, trying to control her disgust for the child's sake, "but mamma does not like any mice. Suppose you put them away."

Just at this moment Nellie ran up the piazza steps.

"O mamma!" she said, seeing the expression of her mother's face, "I meant to tell you about the white mice before Daisy brought them near you or showed them to you, but she was too quick for me. Daisy, darling, take them away; you see mamma does not like them, and you must take them back to Frankie Bradford."

To have seen Daisy's face!

She could not believe it possible that any one should really have a fear or dislike to "such cunning little things" as her white mice, and she stood looking from mother to sister, dismay, disappointment, and wonder mingling in her expression.

Poor little Daisy!

Nellie hastily explained to her mother, telling her how she had been detained by Johnny, and that she had not intended to allow her to see the mice until she had learned whether or no they would annoy her; and ending by saying that she was sure Daisy would be a good girl and carry them back to Frankie.

Nellie herself, Mrs. Ransom and Carrie, all expected to hear Daisy break into one of her dismal wails at this proposal; but, to their surprise, this did not follow.

True, the little face worked sadly, and Daisy winked her eyes very hard, trying to keep back the gathering tears, while her bosom, to which she held the mice tightly clasped, rose and fell with the sobs she struggled to suppress.

"Mamma," she at last gasped rather than said,—"mamma, I'm trying very hard: I am trying not to be a cry-baby any more, 'cause Nellie said that was a good way to be a help to you; but, mamma, oh! I do 'most have to be a cry-baby if you don't love my mice, 'cause I do love 'em so."

"My precious lambie!" said the mother; and, forgetting her own aversion to Daisy's pets in her sympathy for the child, she held out her arms to her, and gathered her, mice and all, within their loving clasp.

Thoughtful Nellie in another instant had taken the mice from Daisy's hold, and shutting both within the box laid it on a chair at a distance.

"Mamma," sobbed Daisy, hiding her little pitiful face on her mother's bosom, "I will take 'em back to Frankie. I didn't know you would degust 'em so, and I'm sorry I bringed 'em home for you to see. And, mamma, I wouldn't be a cry-baby, 'deed I wouldn't, if I could help it."

"You can cry a little if you want to, and no one shall call you a cry-baby, my pet," said her mother, "and"—Mrs. Ransom hesitated; then after a little struggle with herself, went on—"and you shall keep the mice, darling. Perhaps we can find a place for them where mamma will not see them."

Daisy raised her head, showing flushed cheeks and tearful eyes, and a still quivering lip, although smiles and dimples were already mingling themselves with these signs of distress, at this crumb of comfort.

Never was such an April face and temper as Daisy Ransom's.

"I'll tell you, mamma," said Johnny, coming to the rescue, "Bob and I can make a cubby hole for them down in the garden-house, and they can live there, where they need never bother you. Daisy can go and play with them there when she wants them. Will that do, Daisy?"

Do? One would have thought so to see Daisy's delight. She was beaming and dimpling all over now.

"Oh! you dear, darling, loving Johnny," she exclaimed, clapping her hands; then turning to her mother, and softly touching her cheek, she asked in the most insinuating little way,—

"Mamma, dear, would they trouble you down in the garden-house? If they would, I'll do wifout 'em."

Who could resist her sweet coaxing way.

Not her mother, certainly, who, once more kissing the little eager, upturned face, assured her that she might keep the white mice, and have them down in the garden-house.

"There's an old bird-cage upstairs in the attic," said Nellie, "why wouldn't that do for a house for them?"

"Just the thing. I'll bring it," said Johnny, and away he went upstairs, three steps at once, and returning in less time than would have seemed possible, with the old, disused bird-cage.

"It is rather the worse for wear," he said, turning it around, and viewing it disparagingly, "but we'll make it do. I'll cobble it up; and it will hold the mice anyhow, Daisy."

To Daisy it seemed a palace for her mice. Every thing was couleur de rose to her now that she was to be allowed to keep her new pets, and that, as she believed, without any annoyance to mamma.

Johnny and Bob were very kind too. They went to work at once; the former straightening the bent bars of the cage, the latter finding a cup and a small tin box for the food and drink of the white mice.

Daisy was enchanted, and stood by with radiant face till she saw her pets lodged safely within their new house, when she was even satisfied to have the boys carry them to the garden-house, and to stay behind herself; mamma telling her that it was too late for her to go out again.

Never was happier child than Daisy when she laid her little head on her pillow that night.

"What a nice day this has been!" said Carrie, as the four elder children sat with their mother upon the piazza, after Daisy had gone to rest.

"What's made it so wonderfully nice?" asked Johnny.

"Well, I don't know," said Carrie. "I've had a very pleasant time somehow, and I believe it's 'cause Nellie has been with me 'most all day, and been so nice. Why, Nellie, you haven't studied one bit to-day."

"Why, no," exclaimed Nellie. "I declare I forgot all about my practising and sewing, and every thing. I never thought of my books, I've been so busy. Why didn't you remind me of the practising and sewing, mamma?"

Her mother smiled.

"I thought it just as well to let you take the whole day for other things, Nellie," she said: "a whole holiday from books and work will not hurt you. You have managed to live and be happy through it, have you not?"

"Why, yes," answered Nellie, astonished at herself, as she recollected how completely lessons, sewing, and practising had slipped from her mind; "and it has been a very nice day, as Carrie says. A great deal pleasanter than yesterday," she added, as she contrasted her feelings of last night with those of to-night.

There could be no doubt of it. She felt more like herself, better and happier to-night, than she had done, not only yesterday, but for many days previous; and here was fresh proof, if her sensible little mind had needed it, that her father and mother were right, and that "all work and no play" were fast taking ill effect on both mind and body.

Now it will not do for little girls who are inclined to be idle and negligent in their studies to find encouragement for their laziness in Nellie's example, or to think that what was good for her must be good for them. Nellie was a child who, as you have seen, erred on the other side, not only from real love for her books, but also from the desire to learn as much and as fast as her quicker and more clever schoolmates; but this is a fault with which but few children can be reproached, and I should be sorry to have my story furnish any one with an excuse for idleness or neglect of duty.