A STORY-TELLING GAME When Aunt Emma was safely settled, cap and all, in one of the drawing-room arm-chairs, it seemed to the children as if the rain and the gray sky did not matter nearly so much as they had done half an hour before.

In the first place, her coming made something new and interesting to think about; and in the second place, they felt quite sure that Aunt Emma hadn't brought her little black bag into the drawing-room with her for nothing.

If only her cap had been in it, why of course she would have left it in mother's bedroom.

But here it was in her lap, with her two hands folded tight over it, as if it contained something precious! How very puzzling and interesting! However, for a long time it seemed as if Aunt Emma had nothing at all to say about her bag.

She began to tell them about her drive--how in two places the horse had to go splashing through the water, and how once, when they were crossing a little river that ran across the road, the water came so far up the wheels that "I put my head out of the window," said Aunt Emma, "and said to my old coachman, 'Now, John, if it's going to get any deeper than this, you'd better turn him round and go home, for I'm an old woman, not a fish, and I can't swim.