﻿FLORIE. 



" In a minute then you will ;" 

 Her pleading lip entreats, until, 

 Unable longer to withstand, 

 I place it in her little hand ; 

 And then, with basket on her arm, 

 The apple, snug, secured from harm, 

 She takes a nib and drops it in, 

 Then bends her head to look within , 

 And eats and talks, and talks and eata 

 And pit-a-pats her little feet, 

 Forever round and round the house, 

 As brisk and busy as a mouse ; 

 If asked to do a thing she spurns, 

 Each shoulder gives a shrug by turns ; 

 And if you urge, she will not grant, 

 " Ma says I mustn't, and I can't !" 



And when the evening draweth near, 



And one by one the lights appear, 



She lays her little frock aside, 



And wrapped in night-gown, large and wide. 



Her chattering tongue begins to tease : 



" Tell me a story will you, please?" 



" What shall it be about, my pet ? 



About the mouse that gnawed the net?" 



" No, no, tell me about a dog, 



Or else about a great big frog !" 



When those are told, she asks for more, 



And half exhausts my little store. 



" Tell me about Red-Riding-Hood ?" 



And I go on to please her mood ; 



Until her little sparkling eyes 



Grow small and smaller still in size ; 



Then she repeats her evening prayer, 



And thanks her Maker for his care, 



Asks him to bless her dear mamma, 



And all her friends where'er they are ; 



To please to take the kindest care, 



And make him good of brother Clare 



And then she bids a last good night, 



And shuts her eyes till morning light. 



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