This afternoon had been a very pleasant one; the chickens had been looked at and greatly admired; flowers, the great favourites both of aunt and niece, Mabel did not care for, though she liked, as we have seen, to deck herself in gay colours. In the house they had plenty of amusement, with books and pretty specimens of work of various kinds from the ready fingers and artistic taste of Aunt Mary and Clara; indeed, what had been produced by their skill, industry, and steady perseverance, was worthy of admiration. To Mabel's astonishment, nine o'clock struck, and she had not yet finished her pleasant occupation of examining, when her aunt said: 'Now, my dears, it is your bed-time.' Clara instantly began to put away books and work, but Mabel exclaimed: 'Oh, aunt! must we go to bed so soon? I never go till ten, at home!' 'Perhaps you never rise at six in the morning?' replied Miss Livesay; 'we do. And I dare say you have heard the old proverb-- '"Early to bed, and early to rise, Is the way to be healthy, wealthy, and wise."' 'I go to bed when I like, and I get up when I like, at home,' said Mabel, without noticing the unwelcome quotation. '_We_ have no _likes_ and _dislikes_ here, my dear Mabel,' said her aunt. 'We do what we know to be our duty, and you will have to do the same. Good-night!' An affectionate kiss accompanied the _good-night_; Mabel saw that it was a _decided_ one; there was no room for further parley, and the short time spent by the proud and petulant girl at Oak Villa gave signs of an authority, to which she must of necessity submit, as from it there could be no appeal. 'Mabel dear, it is time to get up; don't you hear the bell ringing?' said Clara, as she jumped out of bed and began to dress. The sleepy-headed girl turned lazily round, but did not seem to be at all disposed to attend to the summons. 'You _must_ get up; indeed you must!' urged Clara, gently shaking her cousin by the shoulder. 'I shall not have done all I have to do before prayers, if we don't make haste.' 'Why, what have we to do before breakfast? And what time do you have breakfast?' drowsily inquired Mabel, rising, however, at this second appeal of her cousin's. 'We have prayers at eight, then breakfast; but I have my chickens to feed, and my lessons to prepare before that time,' said Clara. 'Lessons before breakfast! Oh, I shall hate that!' exclaimed Mabel. 'I hope they are not hard ones, for I shall never learn them if they are.' 'Well, I don't know what you call hard,' replied her cousin. 'I find mine rather difficult sometimes, but Aunt Mary is so kind in explaining everything, that it is quite a pleasure to learn with her.' 'I'm sure I shouldn't think her kind,' said the ungrateful Mabel. 'I can't bear people that are so prim and stiff as Aunt Mary is, always seeming determined to make you do just what they like, whether you wish it or not.'