“And I love Hatty, and you shan’t be cross to her,” said Meg, putting her arms round Hatty. “It was Hatty who was cross,” said the little girl, sadly. “Poor Hatty is only _trying_ to be good. She does wrong very, very often.” “Hatty dood! Hatty dood!” said Harry, nestling at her side. Marcus walked away, without saying another word. He took his fishing-rod, and Hatty saw him no more that day. When Marcus came home in the evening he was very tired. The family had all done supper. He took what he wanted, alone, and then went up to bed without saying “good-night” to any body. When he got into his own room, he saw on the floor by his bed a beautiful pair of slippers, with dogs’ heads worked neatly upon them. He took off his heavy shoes. How comfortable the slippers felt to his tired feet! Such an excellent fit—so loose and easy! “How kind in mother to make them!” he thought. “When could she have had the time.” Marcus was going to rush to the door of Aunt Barbara’s room to thank his mother, when he saw a little note lying on the table. He broke it open and read: “Dear Marcus: It has made me very sad all the week to think you were displeased with me. I love you very dearly, and cannot bear to have you look at me as if you did not care for me. I know I made you angry by speaking about the mark at school. If I had not cared for you I should not have spoken as I did. I hope you will yet tell Mr. Briggs. Perhaps I am too naughty myself to give anybody advice. Please forgive me all I have ever done wrong to you.—I began to work these slippers as soon as I got home from grandma’s, and they were only finished this week. I hope they will fit you.—Won’t you be pleasant to-morrow morning to your sister Hatty?” Marcus read the note, with the slippers on his feet. He felt ashamed of his unkindness to his little sister, and he resolved to meet her pleasantly in the morning. Marcus did not go to sleep until late that night, but we will not tell what was the subject of his thoughts. The next morning Marcus’ ill humor seemed to have all passed away. He made no apology to Hatty for his late rudeness, but she was generous enough to forget the past. She did not now in her turn sulk and pout, and so keep up the quarrel, but she received him as cheerfully as if nothing had happened. Marcus wore the new slippers, and declared he had never had a present that suited him better, and Hatty was repaid for all her trouble. Hatty fancied that at church Marcus was more attentive than usual, and once she thought she saw him wipe his eyes, as if he were affected by something the clergyman said; but she was soon afraid she had been mistaken, for he began to look about as usual, and even exchanged a glance of recognition with one of his acquaintances in the gallery.