refusal, but the promise of threepence an hour relaxed her at once. Little Peggy sat knitting a stocking very diligently, with a rod lying on the table beside her. She looked up with a timid wistfulness, as if the prospect of any change was like a release from prison.

'Now, mind and behave yourself," said Aunt Hetty; "and see that you keep at work the whole time. If I have one word of complaint, you know what you'll get when you come home." The rose-colour subsided from Peggy's pale face, and she answered, "Yes, ma'am," very meekly.

In the neighbour's house all went quite otherwise. No switch lay on the table; and instead of—" Mind how you do that-if you don't I'll punish you," she heard the gentle words, "There, dear, see how carefully you can carry that upstairs. Why, what a nice, handy little girl you are!" Under this enlivening influence, Peggy worked like a bee, and soon began to hum much more agreeably than a bee. Aunt Hetty was always in the habit of saying, "Stop your noise, and mind your work!" but the new friend patted her on the head and said, "What a pleasant voice the little girl has! It is like the birds in the fields." The happy child tuned up like a lark as she tripped lightly up and down stairs on various household errands. At last Mrs. Fairweather said, "I think your little feet must be tired by this time; we will rest awhile, and eat some gingerbread." The child took the offered cake with a

Then

humble little courtesy, and carefully held out her apron to prevent any crumbs from falling on the floor. she took out a pile of books from one of the baskets of goods, and told Peggy she might look at the pictures till she called her. Assured by the encouraging voice of Mrs. Fairweather, she gave herself up to the full enjoyment of the picture-books, and when she was summoned to her work, she obeyed with a cheerful alacrity that would have astonished her stern relative. When the labours of the day were concluded, Mrs. Fairweather accompanied her home, paid for the hours she had been absent, and warmly praised her docility and diligence. "It is lucky that she behaved so well," replied Aunt Hetty; "if I had heard any complaint, I should have given her a whipping, and sent her to bed without her supper."

Poor little Peggy went to sleep that night with a lighter heart than she had felt since she became an orphan. Her first thought in the morning was whether her neighbour would want her service again. Her desire that it should be so soon became obvious to Aunt Hetty, and excited an undefined jealousy and dislike of one who so easily made herself beloved. Without exactly acknowledging to herself what were her motives, she ordered Peggy to gather the sweepings of the kitchen into a small pile, and leave it on the frontier of her neighbour's premises. Peggy ventured to ask, timidly, whether the wind would not blow it