GREEDY THOMAS.

BY KATHARINE PYLE.

"No, Thomas, no," his good nurse said. "Indeed, you should not take At tea-time such a very large And plummy piece of cake." In vain it was for nurse to speak, Young Thomas paid no heed; The slice of cake, both plum and crumb, He ate with eager greed.

But, ah! that night, when all the house Was wrapped in slumber deep, Then Thomas had a dreadful dream, For he was fast asleep. He dreamed he was a plummy cake Of most enormous size. The icing was his nose and mouth, And currants were his eyes.

He dreamed the door swung softly back, The dream-man entered in; And spectacles were on his nose, And bristles on his chin. He held a great knife in his hand, And tiptoed to the bed. "Oh, pray don't cut! I'm not a cake, I'm Tommy," Thomas said.

In vain to speak, for Thomas knew He looked too brown and nice; He saw the dream-man lift his knife As if to cut a slice, And then—young Thomas shrieked and woke, And sat up straight in bed. "Oh, dear! I'll never eat rich cake Again at night," he said.