“Oh!” she said, “that’s right. I have so hurried myself! I was afraid the fire would be out. Where’s Jenny? You were to have called for her, you know, as you came from school. Dear! how stupid you are, Mary. I am sure I told you over and over again. Now don’t cry, silly child. The best thing you can do is to run off back again for her.” “But my lessons, Bessy. They are so bad to learn. It’s tables day to-morrow,” pleaded Mary. “Nonsense; tables are as easy as can be. I can say up to sixteen times sixteen in no time.” “But you know, Bessy, I’m very stupid, and my head aches so to-night!” “Well! the air will do it good. Really, Mary, I would go myself, only I’m so busy; and you know Bill is too careless, mother says, to fetch Jenny through the streets; and besides they would quarrel, and you can always manage Jenny.” Mary sighed, and went away to bring her sister home. Bessy sat down to her knitting. Presently Bill came up to her with some question about his lesson. She told him the answer without looking at the book; it was all wrong, and made nonsense; but Bill did not care to understand what he learnt, and went on saying, “Twelve inches make one shilling,” as contentedly as if it were right. Mary brought Jenny home quite safely. Indeed, Mary always did succeed in everything, except learning her lessons well; and sometimes, if the teacher could have known how many tasks fell upon the willing, gentle girl at home, she would not have thought that poor Mary was slow or a dunce; and such thoughts would come into the teacher’s mind sometimes, although she fully appreciated Mary’s sweetness and humility of disposition. To-night she tried hard at her tables, and all to no use. Her head ached so, she could not remember them, do what she would. She longed to go to her mother, whose cool hands around her forehead always seemed to do her so much good, and whose soft, loving words were such a help to her when she had to bear pain. She had arranged so many plans for to-night, and now all were deranged by Bessy’s new fancy for knitting. But Mary did not see this in the plain, clear light in which I have put it before you. She only was sorry that she could not make haste with her lessons, as she had promised Jenny, who was now upbraiding her with the non-fulfilment of her words. Jenny was still up when Tom and Jem came in. They spoke sharply to Bessy for not having their porridge ready; and while she was defending herself, Mary, even at the risk of imperfect lessons, began to prepare the supper for her brothers. She did it all so quietly, that, almost before they were aware, it was ready for them; and Bessy, suddenly ashamed of herself, and touched by Mary’s quiet helpfulness, bent down and kissed her, as once more she settled to the never-ending difficulty of her lesson.