Marcus seized the broom, and began to flourish it this way and that way, across the wide pavement, as if he meant to be rapid, if not particularly thorough, in his work. “Now, Harry,” said Mrs. Lee, quietly, “mother wants you to make a nice fence with your blocks all round your playthings. Meg will get them for you.” From a closet under the stairs Meg soon dragged out a box in which were Harry’s stores of blocks,—playthings of which he never tired, and which never wore out. The little fellow set to work very patiently; and then Mrs. Lee said, “Come, Meg, I will take you with me.” Meg gave her hand to her mother, and skipped up the stairs, ready to take in good part anything that should happen. Mrs. Lee led her to a small room at the end of the hall, and said, “Now listen to me, my little darling. You are to sleep in here with Hatty, and she is to help you dress, and to be very kind to you. I want you to be very careful not to hurt any of Hatty’s things, and to mind her, when I am not with you. If you do as I say, you will be sure to get on well.” Meg gave a little jump, and perched herself on the edge of the bed, as she said, “O how nice, Mother! I am so glad. It is a great deal pleasanter than being in the old nursery with Jane.” “Don’t sit on the bed, Meggy,” said Mrs. Lee, helping the little thing gently down—and smoothing the tumbled place she had made on the clean counterpane; “You know Hatty likes to keep her bed very nicely.” “Hatty can’t lock the door now—and say, ‘You can’t come in, Meg.’ It is my room, too, now,” said Meg, “and I shall have a right to come in.” “I hope my little girls will get on very pleasantly together,” said Mrs. Lee, gently. “Jesus’ little children never quarrel, never speak bad, angry words.” “Well, I won’t, Mother, if I can help it,” said Meg, and she put up her mouth to be kissed, as if that mother’s kiss could ensure her doing right. While this conversation was going on up stairs, Marcus had stopped in the midst of his work, and was actually still, for a moment, while his face bore the marks of deep thought. Marcus did not feel altogether comfortable about the way he had spoken to Aunt Barbara that morning; he knew he had done wrong, and that brought to his mind a letter his mother had received from Hatty during her absence. Hatty had written that she was very sorry for all the naughty things she had ever done, and that she had made up her mind to be one of Jesus’ little children, and that she believed He had forgiven her for all the past, and would help her to be a better girl. She sent much love to her brothers and sisters, and said she wanted them to forget every unkind word she had ever spoken to them, for she was very sorry, and never meant to do so again.