Hatty passed her hand along the seam of the sheet (Mrs. Lee used her old-fashioned sheets on the children’s beds) to assure herself that she was on her own side of the bed, and then she was going to tell Meg that it was _she_ who was out of place; but something checked her, and she only said, pleasantly, “Never mind, Meg, where the middle of the bed is,—you shall have all the room you want;” and making way for her little friend with the sharp elbows, Hatty composed herself again to sleep, with a far happier feeling than if she had contended for her rights. Once she was going to say, “O Meg, it hurts me still where you punched me,” but she checked the words, and thought how trifling was such a pain compared with the nails in the hands of our great example, who has bid us follow him in his patience, as well as in perfect purity. Hatty’s long ride from her grandmother’s, a distance of sixteen miles, and the excitement of her return home, made her sleep very soundly, when not disturbed, and she would gladly have continued her nap until the rousing bell gave forth its summons. Meg was something like the uneasy birds who twitter at midnight on their perches, and wake at dawn to sing, as if they never knew the need of rest. By the first grey streak of morning she began to stir, and was soon wide awake and full of glee at finding herself in her new quarters. Hatty turned her back resolutely, but in vain. Meg was not to be so easily disposed of. Hatty was going to say some hasty words to Meg, as she twitched away from her, when Meg pleaded, “Do wake up, sister Hatty. It is Sunday morning.” “Sunday morning!” that thought brought Hatty to herself—and making an effort to throw off her sleepiness, she turned towards Meg, and said, “Well, then, give me a nice kiss to begin the day.” Meg gave the kiss with real good will, and then, nestling up close to Hatty, she began to talk as if her tongue needed violent exercise to make up for being quiet all night. Before many minutes were over, Hatty had set that little tongue at Sunday work, repeating all the hymns and Bible verses that Meg had learned during the three months that Hatty had been away from home. Meg was full of eager questions about her hymns and her verses, and Hatty had an opportunity of giving the little one some sweet lessons about the loving Saviour and what He wishes in His lambs, that she would have lost if she had given way to her selfish wish for a longer nap. We do not know, when we give way to our own whims, instead of being unselfish, what opportunities of usefulness we may be losing. If we do one duty well, some higher and more important duty generally follows close upon it.