Mr.Squills, who was a bachelor, and well-to-do in the world, often made me little presents.

Not long after the event I have narrated, he gave me one far exceeding in value those usually bestowed on children,--it was a beautiful large domino-box in cut ivory, painted and gilt.

This domino-box was my delight.

I was never weary of playing, at dominos with Mrs.Primmins, and I slept with the box under my pillow.
"Ah!" said my father one day, when he found me ranging the ivory parallelograms in the parlor, "ah! you like that better than all your playthings, eh ?" "Oh, yes, papa!" "You would be very sorry if your mamma were to throw that box out of the window and break it for fun." I looked beseechingly at my father, and made no answer.
"But perhaps you would be very glad," he resumed, "if suddenly one of those good fairies you read of could change the domino-box into a beautiful geranium in a beautiful blue-and-white flower-pot, and you could have the pleasure of putting it on your mamma's window-sill." "Indeed I would!" said I, half-crying.
"My dear boy, I believe you; but good wishes don't mend bad actions: good actions mend bad actions." So saying, he shut the door and went out.

I cannot tell you how puzzled I was to make out what my father meant by his aphorism.