This speech amused everybody, particularly Horace, who was glad to have Grace say a foolish thing once in a while. It raised his self-esteem somehow; and, more than that, he liked to remember her little slips of the tongue, and tease her about them. It was not long before he had seen all there was to be seen in the house, and wanted to "_do_ something." As for reading, that was usually too stupid for Horace. Grace kindly offered to play checkers with him; but she understood the game so much better than he did, that she won at every trial. This was more than he could bear with patience; and, whenever he saw that she was gaining upon him, he wanted to "turn it into a _give-game_." "But that isn't fair, Horace." "Well, ma, just you see how mean Grace is! There, she wants me to jump that man yonder, so she'll take two of mine, and go right in the king-row!" "But, Horace," said Grace, gently, "what do I play for if I don't try to beat?" "There now," cried he, "chase my men up to the king-row, so I can't crown 'em, do!" "Just what I'm doing," replied Grace, coolly. "Well, I should think you'd better take 'em all, and be done with it! Before I'd be so mean as to set _traps_!" "Look, Horace," said Grace; "you didn't jump when you ought to, and I'm going to _huff_ your man. See, I blow it, just this way; old Mr. Knight calls it _huffing_." "Huff away then! but you stole one of those kings. I'll bet you stole it off the board after I jumped it." "Now, Horace Clifford," cried Grace, with tears in her eyes, "I never did such a thing as to steal a king; and if you say so I won't play!" "Horace," said Mrs. Clifford, who had been trying for some time to speak, "what do you play checkers for?" "Ma'am? Why, to beat, of course." "Well, do you consider it work, or play?" "Work, or play? Why, it's a game, ma; so it's play." "But Grace was so obliging that she wished to amuse you, my son. _Does_ it amuse you? Doesn't it make you cross? Do you know that you have spoken a great many sharp words to your kind sister? "Shut the board right up, my child; and remember from this time never to play checkers, or any other game, when you feel yourself growing fretful! As you sometimes say, 'It doesn't pay.'" Horace closed the board, looking ashamed. "That's sound advice for everybody," said aunt Madge, stroking her little nephew's hair. "If children always remembered it, they would get along more pleasantly together--I know they would." Grace had been looking ill all the morning, and her mother now saw symptoms of a chill. With all her tender anxiety she had not known how tired her little daughter was. It was two or three weeks before the child was rested; and whenever she had a chill, which was every third day for a while, she was delirious, and kept crying out,-- "O, do see to Horace, mamma! Mr. Lazelle will forget! O, Horace, now _don't_ let go my hand! I've got the bundles, mamma, and the milk for the baby."