The Worst Thing for Man's Children

Una is ten. She is a sweet little thing, not pretty, but sweet. Thomas Carlisle is nine. They call him Carl. And he is a regular mania for collecting toads and bugs and frogs and bringing them into the house. I suppose he was responsible for the dead rat that was lying on the chair in the parlor the afternoon, Mrs. Grant Cullen said. To be sure, there may have been the cat who left it there. But I never saw such a rakish-looking beast. He walks along the rich pole of the man's almost every evening sunset. And this is Dr. Deere, and waves his tail. The worst of it