"Not exactly that; I told you not to be intimate with Mary Watson, because she did many things I did not like, and knew a good many little girls, who could not teach her any good; but still, I think, if, for some reason, we were obliged to have Mary Watson here, you might love her just as much as I told you to love Lucy, for if you spoke the truth, she could not think you liked any of her naughty ways." "Then why may I not know her now--could I not speak the truth?" "Perhaps you might," said Mabel; "but I think, sometimes, that not to avoid temptation, is taking one step to evil; so I thought it best to avoid Mary Watson, as I could scarcely hope you would do her very much good, and she might do you harm." "You always think of me, Mabel," said Amy; "when do you find time to think of yourself?" "When I go to bed," she replied, "and then I ask myself if I have been as kind to my little orphan sister as I ought to be?" "But, Mabel, dear, when you sit alone, sometimes, and look so very sad, and I come in, and see tears on your face, is that about me?" "No; but it is not often so." "Not often; but I am so vexed when it is. Why is it, Mabel dear?" "Because," she said, her eyes filling with tears as she spoke, "somebody loved me once, who does not love me now." "No, I am sure that is not true--every one loves you; mamma, Mr. Ware, Miss Ware, Betsy, John, every one." "I am sure that can't be true, and it is naughty to fancy unkind things; Mabel, dear, dear, Mabel," said the child, jumping on a stool and throwing her arms lightly round her neck, "and you are never naughty." "Oh, yes I am, many many times a-day," said Mabel, hiding her face on Amy's shoulder, "my good, good, child, what should I do without you." "Oh, nothing without me, you could not get on at all without me." "Not very well, I think, certainly," said Mabel, smiling through her tears at Amy's satisfaction, "but we have been a long time away, and mamma must have finished her letter--come and let us seal it before the man calls again, for if it is not ready, what will become of our visitors." "But, Amy," said she, sinking her voice almost to a whisper, "never tell mamma or any one that I ever cry, or why I cry." "Oh, never, you know I can keep a secret." "You promise," said Mabel. "Yes, I promise faithfully." CHAPTER IV. This is a likeness may they all declare, And I have seen him, but I know not where. CRABBE.