CHAPTER XI.
THE ILL-MANNERED CHILD O wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursel's as ithers see us.
-- _Burns._ There lived of yore a saintly dame, Whose wont it was with sweet accord To do the bidding of her Lord In quaintly fashioned bonnet With simplest ribbons on it.
"I won't have ribbon loops, I tell you," exclaimed the child.

"I want an owl's head and I'm going to have it." "Why, my dear, the ribbon is ever so much prettier," urged the mother soothingly.

"An owl's head is too old a trimming for your hat, dear.
It wouldn't do at all.

Here, select some of this nice ribbon." "Didn't I say I wouldn't have it ?" answered "dear" pettishly, as she reached into another box containing an assortment of wings, quails, tails, and parts of various birds jumbled up together.

Picking out a pair of blackbird's wings she placed them jauntily against the rim of an untrimmed hat which her mother held.
"There, that looks nice," was her comment.