STELLA WESTON AT HOME.

OH, yes, she was at home, curled up in the corner of the couch, with the last number of the "Wide Awake" in her hand, buried in a story. Much good it did to have her at home! Little Miss Amie Weston was also at home, and was supposed to be under Stella's care. Such care! Anything short of pulling the house down about her ears, would have failed to arouse Stella until she reached the end of her story. It is a mercy that the nursery was heated from a black hole in the floor, instead of by a grate-fire, or the house might have been well under way, burning down, before Stella would have known it.

Amie had been established with her blocks, and told to "be a good child, there's a dear, and let sister read." And she was doing it. The blocks, to be sure, did not last long; hadn't she played with them a thousand times? She wanted something new. There was kitty, pushing softly in from the hall. Dear me! What black paws kitty had! She must have been in the coal-cellar after a mouse.

Amie resolved that she ought to be washed before she was allowed to jump on the sofa.

She spoke to Stella, about it, but Stella was buried, you know, and heard nothing.

So, with much tugging and groaning, she succeeded in bringing the china bowl to the floor, and pouring a little water in it, and a good deal over the carpet. This she carefully wiped up with one end of the Persian rug, that lay before the toilet-stand. Then she made a lovely lather with cashmere bouquet soap, and splashed poor kitty in, head and ears. There was much squealing, and spitting, and a little bit of scratching, but Amie, being a brave girl, endured it, and brought one of the heavy damask towels from the rack to wipe the wretched kitty's eyes; then the hair brush of real bristles, and with inlaid handle, was dipped into the suds, and did duty in brushing kitty's soaking fur and whiskers.

Just what Amie would have done next will never be known, for the cat suddenly resolved that she would not endure such treatment another minute, and, giving a skilful jump from her tormentor's hands to the side of the bowl, and from the bowl to the floor, with a fearful "yowl," departed through the open door.

I am sorry to tell you that in her flight she overturned the bowl of suds.

"Sakes!" said Amie, in dismay.

That yell from the cat roused even Stella, and she dropped her "Wide Awake," and sat upright.

"What on 'earth' is the matter?"

Then, catching sight of the plight that Amie was in, with a lap full of foamy water, she started up.

"Why, Amie Weston! What 'have' you done now? I never 'did see' such a child! You are always doing mischief!"

Oh, dear! What trouble there was in that home, Amie's dress was stained with the soapsuds, and her shoes and stockings were wet, and the hair brush was spoiled, and Stella's temper was spoiled, and the mother, when she came, was tempted to scold both Amie and Stella, and punish the poor cat.

To whom do you think Stella laid all the blame? When she found that Amie was really too little to know better, and remembered that the cat never had any sense, she threw the "Wide Awake" down on the floor, and kicked it under the sofa, and said, "It is all the fault of that hateful old book! If it hadn't been for that, all these mean things wouldn't have happened."