MABEL AND THE BUST.
Reading edition
Upon the floor our little Mabel sits, Gazing, with wonder and delight, Upon a marble bust. She cons it o'er, With visage keen and bright, Till cautiously upon the stone she lays Her dimpled fingers white.
A tiny frown drives all the smiles away. She scans the image with a rueful stare, Then turning from it with a quivering lip, The fickle baby wails in deep despair. "What is it that disturbs my little pet?" She cannot pull his hair!
W. G.
