was lamenting the fact that he was shortest of money just when his children were growing up and he needed it most, when an old college friend, Major Saville, requested, as a favour, that he would undertake the education of his only son, for a year at least, so that he might be well grounded in his studies before going on to the military tutor who was to prepare him for Sandhurst. Handsome terms were quoted, the vicar looked upon the offer as a leading of Providence, and Arthur Saville's stay at the Rectory proved a success in every sense of the word. He was a clever boy who was not afraid of work, and the vicar discovered in himself an unsuspected genius for teaching. Arthur's progress not only filled him with delight, but brought the offer of other pupils, so that he was but the forerunner of a succession of bright, handsome boys, who came from far and wide to be prepared for college, and to make their home at the vicarage. They were honest, healthy-minded lads, and Mrs. Asplin loved them all, but no one had ever taken Arthur Saville's place. During the year which he had spent under her roof he had broken his collar bone, sprained his ankle, nearly chopped off the top of one of his fingers, scalded his foot, and fallen crash through a plate-glass window. There had never been one moment's peace or quietness; she had gone about from morning to night in chronic fear of a disaster; and, as a matter of course, it followed that Arthur was her darling, ensconced in a little niche of his own, from which subsequent pupils tried in vain to oust him.

Mrs. Saville dwelt upon the latest successes of her clever son with a mother's pride, and his second mother beamed and smiled and cried, "I told you so!" "Dear boy!" "Of course he did!" in delighted echo. But when she came to the second half of the letter her face changed, and she grew grave and anxious. "And now, dear Mr. Asplin," Mrs. Saville wrote, "I come to the real burden of my letter. I return to India in autumn, and am most anxious to see Peggy happily settled before I leave. She has been at this Brighton school for four years, and has done well with her lessons, but the poor child seems so unhappy at the thought of returning, that I am sorely troubled about her. Like most Indian children, she has had very little home life, and after being with me for the last six months, she dreads the prospect of school, and I cannot bear the thought of sending her back against her will. I was puzzling over the question yesterday, when it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps you, dear Mr. Asplin, could help me out of my difficulty. Could you—would you, take her in hand for the next three years, letting her share the lessons of your own two girls? I cannot tell you what a relief and joy it would be to feel that she was under your care. Arthur always looks back on the year spent with you as one of the brightest of his life; and I am sure Peggy would be equally happy. I write to you from force of habit, but really I think this letter should have been addressed to Mrs. Asplin, for it is she who would be most concerned. I know her heart is large enough to mother my dear girl during my absence, and if strength and time will allow her to undertake this fresh charge, I think she will be glad to help another mother by doing so. Peggy is bright and clever like her brother, and strong on the whole, though her throat needs care. She is nearly fifteen—the age, I think, of your youngest girl, and we should be pleased to pay the same terms as we did for Arthur. Now, please, dear Mr. Asplin, talk the matter over with your wife, and let me know your decision as soon as possible."

Mrs. Asplin dropped the letter on the floor and turned to confront her husband.

"Well!"

"Well?"

"It is your affair, dear, not mine. You would have the trouble. Could you do with an extra child in the house?"

"Yes, yes, so far as that goes. The more the merrier. I should like to help Arthur's mother, but——" Mrs. Asplin leant her head on one side, and put on what her children described as her "ways and means" expression. She was saying to herself, clear out the box room over the study. Spare chest of drawers from dressing-room—cover a box with one of the old chintz curtains for an ottoman—enamel the old blue furniture—new carpet and bedstead, say five or six pounds outlay—yes! I think I could make it pretty for five pounds. The calculations lasted for about two minutes, at the end of which time her brow cleared, she nodded brightly, and said in a crisp, decisive tone, "Yes, we will take her. Arthur's throat was delicate too. She must use my gargle."

The vicar laughed softly.

"Ah! I thought that would decide it. I knew your soft heart would not be able to resist the thought of that delicate throat! Well, dear, if you are willing, so am I. I am glad to make hay while the sun shines, and lay by a little provision for the children. How will they take it, do you think? They are accustomed to strange boys, but a girl will be a new experience. She will come at once, I suppose, and settle down to work for the autumn. Dear me! dear me? It is the unexpected that happens. I hope she is a nice child."

"Of course she is. She is Arthur's sister. Come! the young folks are in the study. Let us go and tell them the news. I have always said it was my ambition to have half-a-dozen children, and now, at last, it is going to be gratified."

Mrs. Asplin thrust her hand through her husband's arm, and led him out of the room, down the wide flagged hall, towards the distant room whence the sound of merry young voices fell pleasantly on the ear.

(To be continued.)

OUR PUZZLE POEM REPORT: "PREPOSITIONS."

SOLUTION.

Prepositions.

A preposition is a word
Which other words with nouns relates,
And as its name denotes is heard
Before the noun it dominates.

The noun, poor thing, objects in case,
And this may partly be because
It much dislikes the minor place
Assigned to it by grammar's laws.

But if you take away its noun,
The preposition's altered quite,
Into an adverb has it grown
Which puts things in a diff'rent light.

For now this lordly part of speech
Which erstwhile governed, needs must be
Slave to a verb, and this should teach
A lesson in humility.

Prize Winners

Ten Shillings Each.

• Lily Belling, Wribbenhall, Bewdley, Worcestershire.
• Isabel Borrow, 219, Evering Road, Upper Clapton.
• M. A. C. Crabb, c/o Miss May, 10, Beaufort East, Bath.
• Edmund T. Loader, 5, Richmond Terrace, Brighton.
• Nellie Meikle, 2, Newsham Drive, Liverpool.
• M. Theodora Moxom, Hillside, Ilfracombe.
• Hilda Pickering, 42, Linnæus Street, Hull.
• Elizabeth Yarwood, 59, Beech Road, Cale Green, Stockport.

Five Shillings Each.

• Eliza Acworth, 9, Blenheim Mount, Bradford.
• Nannette Bewley, 40, Fitzwilliam Place, Dublin.
• M. S. Bourne, 14, The Broadway, Bromley, Kent.
• Ellen H. Kemp,