Afraid to be caught?

Why girls! you don't mean You're afraid to be caught Helping make the home clean;

To sweep up a room,

To cook a nice meal,

To polish up things

Be they silver or steel, Can't surely be wrong

To good taste or-good smell! But these things may be wrong If you don't do them well.

He was hanging on to a rail, in the back garden, with his legs up and his head down. He had been sitting on the rail at first watching his grandfather plant cabbages. But Syl was a smart boy. He had a curious mind that would pick up ideas in very queer ways. very queer ways. And so he had slung himself over the top-rail, holding on by the calves of his legs. His cap had dropped off because his head was wrong side up, and Syl was just taking a look to see what the world would be like if it were turned upside down. "Gran'da."

This word came out of Syl's mouth as best it could under the circumstances. Grandfather

turned round and smiled to himself. He was

very fond of Syl. Syl had lived at grandfather's ever since his mother died. And Syl's cousin, who was a pupil teacher, ten years older than Syl, lived at grandfather's too. And the dear old man would do anything for his grandchildren-Syl especially, because he was young. "Well, Syl," said he, "what do you want?" "What's a bankrupt?" puffed out Syl, for he was short of breath.

"A bankrupt! Why, Sylvester, where did you see it what makes ask?"

"Saw it on this-

you

-bit o' paper," said Syl, just as well as he could spurt the words out. And all the while, hanging on the rail, he was fumbling in his trousers pocket for a scrap of newspaper, which he tugged out at last.

"Oh, aye!" said grandfather, leaning on the handle of his spade. "I don't know, lad, how I could in-sense ye into it. Le' me see