But Hatty did understand. She felt that Marcus had acted a lie for the sake of winning the prize he so greatly desired. She knew he would be angry if she said anything more about it; but she could not be silent and let him do wrong, without one more effort. After a moment, in which she asked God to help her to keep down her own quick temper if Marcus should make a harsh reply, Hatty said: “Marcus, you know what mother tells us about the book where what we call secret things are written down, to be read on the great day when all things will be known. Something will stand against your name, there, worse than a mark for being unpunctual. Dear Marcus, do tell the truth, and not mind the prize. You will not care about the prize when you are happy with the beautiful angels in Heaven; but you will love to remember how you did right, when it came so very hard.” It had cost Hatty a great effort to say all this, and now she burst into tears. “Girls are so silly!” said Marcus, impatiently. “I wish you would not set up to lecture me, Miss?” and the brother walked angrily away. “For shame! For shame!” shouted little Meg, who had been an unnoticed listener to the conversation, and her slender finger was pointed at her brother. He took no notice of her; and she turned to Hatty, and threw her arms round her neck, and said: “Don’t cry, sister. Meg will be a good girl. I will try very hard.” “Will you, Meg?” said Hatty, brightening. “Then I shall be very happy.” Now Meg had only wanted to say something to comfort Hatty, and had spoken the first words that came into her mind, without thinking what they meant. When she saw Hatty seem so much pleased, she thought to herself: “I do mean to try, if Hatty wants it so very much.” At that moment Harry’s voice was heard in loud, angry screams. Hatty and Meg ran to the spot from whence they came. Marcus walked sheepishly away, as they appeared, ashamed to own that in his ill-humor he had been teasing his little brother. Harry was a sweet-tempered, affectionate little fellow, ready to put up his mouth to kiss anybody who smiled upon him; but now he had been too far provoked to bear all patiently. Marcus had run away with his yellow carriage and dashed it against a stone, until all the seeds that had been riding about so comfortably were scattered far and wide on the grass. Then, because he looked displeased, and said, “Naughty boy!” Marcus had perched him on the high chicken-coop, and left him to scream for himself, or roll off as he best could. Hatty took the little fellow in her arms and wiped away his tears. She promised to hunt with him for a “beautiful squash,” larger than the one he had lost,—and he was soon comforted, and began to smooth her face and say, “Dear Hatty—Hatty so dood.” “Yes, Hatty is so good,” echoed Meg. “Sister is only trying to be good,” said Hatty, modestly. But the praise of the little ones went to her heart.