OUR Baby is very fond of coming down to dessert. I almost think it is the greatest pleasure in his small life, especially as it is not one that very often happens, for, of course, as a rule, he has to go to bed before father and mother begin dinner, and dessert comes at the end of all, even after grace, which I have often wondered at. Our Baby is four; he has rather red hair, and merry-sad eyes, if you know what I mean; and in summer, because his skin is so very fair “quite lost on a boy,” nurse says he has a great many freckles, especially on his dear little nose. He is a great pet, of course, but not in a very babyish way he seems too sensible for that; and he is very gentle and thoughtful, but not at all “soft” or cowardly. Our Baby has a brother he is really, of course, brother to us all; but Baby seems to think he is only “budder” to him a very big, almost grown-up brother, Baby considers him, for he is nearly seven! Well, one evening lately both these little boys came down to dessert for a great treat, because an auntie had come on a visit, and this was the first night. They were both so pleased. “Brother” was chattering and laughing in what we call his “big man way,” and Baby smiling soberly. That is his way when he is pleased, and that reminds me how we did laugh the first night he ever came down! He was so dreadfully solemn and quiet we thought he was going to cry, and father said, “That child had better go to bed, he looks so miserable;” but when I asked him if he would like to go up, he looked at me and smiled, and said, “Oh no, Cissy. He’s very happy;” and then we saw he really was, only he thought looking solemn was the best of good manners, for afterwards he told “Brother” he thought “gemplemens and ladies never laughed at dinner!” But he was more at home this evening that Auntie had come, and though he did not make any noise, any one could see he was happy. He was sitting by Auntie, who was very pleased with him, and without any one happening to notice, she took a cocoa-nut biscuit from a plate in front of her and gave it to him. He took it quietly, but did not eat it, for he saw that “Budder” had not got one, and though our little boys are not the least jealous of each other, they are very fond of being what they call “egwall,” and if one gets anything, he likes the other to get the same.

Auntie went on speaking, and did not see that Baby did not eat his biscuit, but held it tight in his little hand. And in a minute or two mother looked round and said, “I must find something my little boys will like.” Then she drew the cocoa-nut biscuits to her and chose two, a pink one and a white one you must know there is nothing we children think such a treat as cocoa-nut biscuits and handed them to them.

“Budder” took his and said, “Thank you, mother;” but what do you think dear Baby did? Instead of taking it, as he might easily have done, without any one’s ever knowing of the other and, indeed, if they had known, they couldn’t have said it was naughty of him he held out his hand with the biscuit already in it, and said quite simply, not the least as if he thought he was doing anything very good, “Him has one, zank you.”

“Honest little man,” said mother, and then Baby’s face got red, and he did look pleased. For mother does not praise us often, but when she does it is for something to be a little proud of, you see, and even Baby understands that.

And Auntie turned and gave him a kiss.

“You dear little fellow,” she said; and then in a minute, she added, “that reminds me of something I came across the other day.”

“What was it? Oh, do tell us, Auntie,” we all cried.

Auntie smiled we are always on the look-out for stories, and she knows that.

“It was nothing much, dears,” she said, “nothing I could make a story of, but it was pretty, and it touched me.”

“Was it a bear,” said Baby, “or a woof that touched you?”

“Silly boy,” said “Budder”; “how could it be a bear or a woof? Auntie said it was something pretty.”

And when she had left off laughing, she told us.

“It was the other day,” she said, “I was walking along one of the principal streets of Edinburgh, thinking to myself how bitterly cold it was for May. Spring has been late everywhere this year, but down here in the south, though you may think you have had something to complain of, you can have no idea how cold we have had it; and the long light days seem to make it worse somehow! Well, I was walking along quietly, when I caught sight of a poor little boy hopping across the road. I say ‘hopping,’ because it gives you the best idea of the queer way he got along, for he was terribly crippled, and his only way of moving was by something between a jerk and a hop on his crutches. And yet he managed to come so quickly! You would really have been amused to see the kind of fly he came with, and how cleverly he dodged and darted in and out of the cabs and carriages, for it was the busiest time of the day. And fancy, children, his poor little legs and feet from his knees were quite bare. That is not a very unusual sight in Edinburgh, and not by any means at all times one to call forth pity. Indeed, I know one merry family of boys and girls who all make a point of ‘casting’ shoes and stockings when they get to the country in summer, and declare they are much happier without. Their father and mother should be so, any way, considering the saving in hosiers’ and shoemakers’ bills. But in the case of my poor little cripple it was pitiful; for the weather was so cold, and the thin legs and feet so red, and the poor twisted-up one looked so specially unhappy.

“‘Poor little boy,’ I exclaimed to the lady I was with; ’just look at him. Why he has hopped all across the street merely for the pleasure of looking at the nice things in that window!’

“For by this time the boy was staring in with all his eyes at a confectioner’s close to where we were passing.

“‘Give him a penny, do,’ said my friend, ’or go into the shop and buy him something.’

“We went close up to the boy, and I touched him on the shoulder. He looked up such a pretty, happy face he had and I said to him

“‘Well, my man, which shall I give you, a penny or a cookie?’

“He smiled brightly, but you would never guess what he answered. Like our ‘honest little man’ here,” and Auntie patted Baby’s head as she spoke, “he held out his hand not a dirty hand ’considering’ and said cheerfully

“‘Plenty to buy some wi’, thank ye, mem;’ and spying into his hand I saw, children, one halfpenny.”

Auntie stopped. I think there were tears in her eyes.

“And what did you do, Auntie?” we all cried.

“What could I have done but what I did?” she said. “I don’t know if it would have been better not better to let his simple honesty be its own reward. I could not resist it; of course I gave him another penny! He thanked me again quite simply; I am sure it never struck him that he had done anything to be praised for, and I didn’t praise him, I just gave him the penny. And oh, how his bright eyes gleamed! He looked now as if he thought he had wealth enough at his command to buy all the cookies in the shop.”

“So he hadn’t only been pertending to buy,” said “Budder.” “Poor little boy, he had been toosing toosing what he would buy. I’m so glad you gave him anoder penny, Auntie.”

“He’s so gad him got anoder penny,” echoed Baby; though, to tell the truth, I am not sure that he had been listening to the story. He had been making up for lost time by crunching away at his biscuit. And when the boys said “Good night,” Auntie gave them each another biscuit, and mother smiled and said it was because it was Auntie’s first night. But “Budder” told Baby afterwards, by some funny reasoning of his own, that they had got another biscuit each, “’cos of that poor little boy who wasn’t greedy.”

And Baby, of course, was quite satisfied, as “Budder” said so.

I think I shall always remember that little cripple boy when I see cocoa-nut cakes, and it will make me like them, if possible, better than ever.