A little figure glided through the hall.
"Is that you, Pet?" the words came tenderly.
A sob--suppressed to let the answer fall,--
"It isn't Pet, mama, it's only me."
The quivering baby-lips! They had not meant
To utter any word that could plant a sting,
But to that mother-heart a strange pang went;
She heard, and stood like a convicted thing.
One instant, and a happy little face
Thrilled 'neath unwonted kisses rained above;
And from that moment "Only Me" had place
And part with Pet in tender mother-love.
587
We like better to see those on whom we confer benefits, than those,
alas! from whom we receive them.
588
It is not the quantity of the meat but the cheerfulness of the guests,
which makes the feast.
--_Lord Clarendon._
589
Feast to-day with many makes fast to-morrow.
--_Plautus._
590