It spoke well for the Lambert girls that their mother's presence never interfered with them; they talked as freely before her as other girls do in their parent's absence. From children they had never been repressed nor unnaturally subdued; their childish preferences and tastes had been known and respected; no thoughtless criticism had wounded their susceptibility; imperceptibly and gently maternal advice had guided and restrained them. "We tell mother everything, and she likes to hear it," Ella and Katie would say to their school-fellows. "We never have secrets from her," Ella added. "Katie did once, and mother was so hurt that she cried about it. Don't you recollect, Katie?" "Yes, and it is horrid of you to remind me," returned Katie wrathfully, and she walked away in high dudgeon; the recollection was not a pleasant one. Katie's soft heart had been pierced by her mother's unfeigned grief and tender reproaches. "You are the only one of all my little girls who ever hid anything from me. No, I am not angry with you, Katie, and I will kiss you as much as you like," for Katie's arms were round her neck in a moment; "but you have made mother cry, because you do not love her as she does you." "Mother shall never cry again on my account," thought Katie; and, strange to say, the tendency to secretiveness in the child's nature seemed cured from that day. Katie ever afterward confessed her misdemeanors and the accidents that happen to the best-regulated children with a frankness that bordered on bluntness. "I have done it, mother," she would say, "but somehow I don't feel a bit sorry. I rather liked hurting Ella's feelings; it seemed to serve her right." "Perhaps when we have talked about it a little you will feel sorry," her mother would reply quietly; "but I have no time for talking just now." Mrs. Lambert was always very busy; on these occasions she never found time for a heated and angry discussion. When Katie's hot cheeks had cooled a little, and her childish wrath had evaporated, she would quietly argue the point with her. It was an odd thing that Katie generally apologized of her own accord afterward--generally owned herself the offender. "Somehow you make things look different, mother," she would say, "I can't think why they all seem topsy-turvy to me." "When you are older I will lend you my spectacles," her mother returned, smiling. "Now run and kiss Ella, and pray don't forget next time that she is two years older; it can't possibly be a younger sister's duty to contradict her on every occasion."