4 THE ACORN and Uncle Jack and everybody," she mused, her face resting on the palm of her hand. "But I don't know how to be good." "Why don't you get supper as your grandmother told you to?" ticked the old fashioned clock on the mantle so plainly that Allie fancied somebody had really spoken to her. With a light heart, the girl swept and dusted the rooms and prepared the supper. Both Grandma and Uncle Jack were surprised when they found their little girl so cheerful. "Well, Allie, I have something for you," said Uncle Jack untieing a large bundle, which proved to be a beautiful blue party dress. "You have been such a good girl to-day, Alice, that you can go to that party you were talking about the other day," said Grandma forgetting all about that morning. But Allie remembered it, and all the way to the party with Philip and Nina, she kept resolving to be a better girl. She was the merriest one of the group, starting all the games and seeing that all had a good time. "I didn't know Allie Grey was so pretty," said Nina, and Lola replied that anybody could be pretty if they were treated right. Carl Howell, who was generally the ringleader of all the mischief, was the only moody one of the crowd, and he positively refused to to join in any of the games. At last it was time to go home, and Allie went into the hall to put on her wraps. While she stood waiting for the others, Carl came up and asked hesitatingly if he might walk home with her. "You see Phil wanted to take Lola, and so we just exchanged," explained Carl seeing the look of surprise on the girl's face,"But of course if you - don't want" "I suppose you - may," said Allie with a smile. They walked along in silence until they reached Grandma Grey's gate. Here Carl paused and said earnestly, "Allie, I wonder if you'll ever forgive me for sending you that awful valentine. I promise never never to do it again." "Yes, Carl," returned Allie quietly, "For I believe it did me more good than a pretty one could ever have done." Lillian Guthrie, '09. THE ACORN 5 Dot It was the waning of a summer day. Slowly and silently walked an old man through the crowded way of Gate Street, New York. Poverty and toil could be read in his wrinkled face and in the crooked figure leaning for support on an old walking stick. The August sun had left the air yet full of its stifling heat. There was not even a breeze to cool the perspiring foreheads of the passers-by, or to show that the outside world was fresh and green. Knocked by the crowds and pushed from side to side, the old man moved slowly on, never glancing at those who passed him. Turning into a little lane, he entered a more unsettled part of the city; and finally paused before a small dingy house with streaks of soot and rain on its old sides. Almost groping his way around to the back he entered a small room, not seeming to notice a golden haired child or the small, happy voice which greeted him. "How are you, Uncle?" she warbled. But no answer came from the thin white lips. "Here," she said, "sit down here." And the child of nine almost forced the old man to take his place by a window, where a faint breeze was beginning to cool the air. He fell into the chair, and his set lips gave forth a deep sigh of anguish. "Uncle!" cried Dot, "Uncle, what is the matter?" "Oh, what shall we do, child? You cannot do anything. They've made me leave: what shall we do? They don't want my old bric-a-bracs any more, and I cannot earn enough even to pay my rent." And he dropped his head in his hands and sighed again and again. "Never mind" cooed Dot bravely as she patted the old man's withered cheek, "we'll find a way somehow." And she held his bony hand till his heart ceased its heavy throbbing, and slowly, as the shadows came, the poor old soul fell into a deep slumber. Dear little Dot, you do not realize that at this moment your soul has reached womanhood, and protectingly guards and watches the soul of him who has grown again into a child? But the awful excitement of that day did not leave without some marked impression on his weak body. Many days his mind remained in a stupor. Dot, with the aid of a poor neighbor woman, watched and cared for the feverish man until at last on the dawn of a cool September morn, he opened his weary eyes and recognized his little Dot. As the days went by he gradually