‘ LIZABETH ANN'S PICTURE

Ma wanted a good, new picture of me; so pa says, "'Lizabeth Ann, You come down town at noon to-day, and we'll go to the picture man; But don't tell mother—we'll have a surprise for her on Christmas day, And give her a real nice photograft—I know just what she will say." "Oh, goody!" I says, "I am awful glad! I'll be there at noon, you see." (I like to have a secret with pa—it's awful much fun for me.)

I runned away at 'leven o'clock, and ma didn't see me go, Although I had dressed in my very best—and that takes time, you know— My party frock, and my best kid shoes; my furs and my "picture" hat, And my new red coat—the one she says, "Be careful, my dear, of that." And when I got to his office, pa looked awful surprised, and said, "Dear me, what a dressed-up little girl! Why, really, you turn my head!"

And then we went to the picture man. He's nice enough, I s'pose, But what do you think he said to me? "You seem to be mostly clothes!" So pa and the man made me undress, till all that I had on me Was my shirtwaist slip—my arms and neck was bare as they both could be! It made me feel umbarrassed! And then I guess that I nearly cried, But pa just patted me on the head and said he was satisfied.

And now the pictures are finished up, and one is already framed; But ma'll be mad, I am pretty sure—I know that I feel ashamed; For all that you see is my head and neck—and not a bit of my dress— She'll think I was funny to go down-town with so little on, I guess! Yet pa says, "Never you mind, my dear—blame it on me or the man; But mother will like it, you see if she don't—she wanted you, 'Lizabeth Ann."