“Now, George, you will say your lesson,” said Miss Harper, in a pleasant tone. “A’n’t a-going to,” replied the little fellow, pouting out his lips, and scowling from beneath his knit brows. “Oh, yes; George will say his lesson.” “A’n’t a-going to.” “Oh, yes, Georgie,” said Agnes, now coming to the aid of Miss Harper. “Say your lesson.” “A’n’t a-going to.” His lips stuck out farther, and his brow came lower over his eyes. “Come, Georgie, do say your lesson,” urged Agnes. “A’n’t a-going to.” The resolute will of the child had no other expression. “I’ll tell mother,” said Agnes. “Don’t care! Tell her! You wouldn’t say _your_ lesson.” “Oh, yes, Georgie, Agnes did say her lesson like a good girl; and so did Madeline.” Miss Harper showed not the least excitement. Her voice was calm and her manner even. “Now say yours.” “A’n’t a-going to.” The persistent little rebel had no idea of capitulation. “I knew a little boy once——” There was such a pleasant, story-telling tone in the voice of Miss Harper that George was betrayed into looking up into her face, when she fixed his eye as she had, not long before, fixed the eye of his self-willed sister. “I knew a little boy once,” she repeated, “who had no mother. Before he was as old as you are now, his mother died and went to heaven. Poor, dear little fellow! it was a sad day for him when his good mother died and left him to the care of strangers.” George was all attention. Already the unpleasant lines of frowning disobedience were fading from his childish countenance, and a gentle, earnest look coming into his eyes. “After this little boy’s mother died,” went on the governess, “there was nobody in the house to love him as she had done. His father was absent all day, and very often did not get home in the evening until poor little Willy was fast asleep in bed. As it would not do to leave Willy alone with the cook and chambermaid, his father got a governess, who was to have the care of him and teach him all his lessons. Now, it so happened that this governess was not kind and good as Willy’s mother had been, but was selfish and cruel. She gave him long, hard lessons, and if he did not get them—which he often could not—would punish him cruelly; sometimes by shutting him up in a dark closet, sometimes by making him go without eating, and sometimes by whipping him. And all the while she managed to make Willy’s father believe that she was kind and good to him. “Poor little Willy! He grew pale and sad-looking, and no wonder. I was at the house one day——” “Oh, Miss Harper! Did you know him?” said George, with a countenance full of interest. “Yes, dear, I knew little Willy; and I knew his mother before she died. As I was just saying, I called one day at the house, a few months after his mother was taken away from him; and, as the servant opened the door for me, I heard the voice of Willy, and he was crying bitterly. All at once the voice was hushed to a low, smothered sound.