"Here is a comfortable seat, Miss Lindsay," said Henry, when the dinner was ready; and he led her to a rock beside the table, which was covered with moss. "One of nature's verdant cushions," said Susan Sliver. "Nature is very polite to the aristocracy," whispered Fanny, loud enough to be heard; but Emma lifted little Edwin to the rock, saying that it was just high enough for him. Fanny had determined to show that she was not afraid to act herself anywhere, so she talked about matters not at all interesting to the company, taking care to think differently from every one who expressed an opinion. Again the question arose in Emma's mind, whether such rudeness could be the fruit of a good heart; but she quieted herself by saying, "I will ask Dora about it." After the dinner was over, Miss Margaret Sliver began to talk of some verses that Susan had written for this occasion, and insisted on drawing them from her pocket. Susan pretended great unwillingness; but her sister easily possessed herself of the copy, which, with great pathos of manner, she read to the company. "Splendid! elegant!" exclaimed Alice; but at the same time she stepped upon Fanny's toe, and gave her a merry sidelong glance. "Beautiful! are they not, Mary Palmer?" "I am no judge of poetry," said Mary, modestly; "so my opinion is not worth having." "_You_ cannot say so, Miss Lindsay," continued Alice, "for I heard you repeating some lines this morning." "Did you," asked Emma, coloring a little, "then I think they must have been from a hymn by James Montgomery, of which I am very fond, and sometimes repeat unconsciously." "Of course," said Fanny, looking suddenly at Emma, "you think Miss Sliver equal to Montgomery." "This is not the place for me to say whether I do or not," replied Emma, quietly. "I know," said Fanny, "that there are some people who think that the truth is not to be spoken at all times; but I have never yet been afraid to say what I think." "There are things," said Henry, "of which we may not think rightly, and, understanding this, some are slow to speak." "And who is to be the judge of our thoughts," asked Fanny, "whether they be right or wrong?" All were silent now; not because they had no answer for Fanny's question, but because they were not willing to give the _right_ answer. At last, Mary, in a low voice, replied: "The Bible should be our rule, both for thought and word, and conscience must judge between that and us." "And does the Bible teach you to flatter people with your tongue, while you are laughing at them in your sleeves?" asked Fanny. "No," replied Mary; "but it teaches us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to be courteous, and pitiful." "Then I keep one requirement," said Fanny, jumping over the log, seated upon which she had eaten her dinner; "for I do pity people who are too mealy-mouthed to be honest--pity, or _despise_ them, I cannot tell which."