A LITTLE figure glided through the hall;
“Is that you, Pet?” the words came tenderly:
A sob—suppressed to let the answer fall—
“It is n't Pet, mamma; it's only me.”

The quivering baby lips! they had not meant
To utter any word could plant a sting,
But to that mother-heart a strange pang went;
She heard, and stood like a convicted thing!

One instant, and a happy little face
Thrilled 'neath unwonted kisses rained above:
And, from that moment, “Only Me” had place
And part with “Pet” in tender mother-love.