WHAT AILED A PILLOW.
WHILE Annie was saying her prayers, Nell trifled with a shadow picture on the wall. Not satisfied with playing alone, she would talk to Annie, that mite of a figure with golden curls and snowy gown, by the bedside.
"Now, Annie, watch!" "Annie, just see!"
"O Annie, do look!" she said, over and over again.
Annie, who was not to be persuaded, finished her prayer, and crept into bed, whither her thoughtless sister followed, as the light must be out in just so many minutes. Presently Nell took to tumbling, punching, and "O dearing." Then she lay quiet awhile, only to begin again worse than before.
"What's the matter?" asked Annie, at length.
"My pillow!" tossing, thumping, kneading.
"It's as fiat as a board, and as hard as a stone;
I can't think what ails it."
"I know," answered Annie, in her sweet, serious way.
"What?"
"There's no prayer in it."
For a second or two Nell was as still as a mouse, and then she scrambled out on the floor, with a shiver it's true, but she was determined never afterward to try to sleep on a prayerless pillow.
"That must have been what ailed it," she whispered, soon after getting into bed again. " It's all right now."
Some children do not have a pillow!!