Mary half longed to give her a fright, it was so provoking. But she thought of her mother, who was so anxious always about Jenny, and she did not do it. She kept patiently trying to attract her onwards, and at last they were at home. Mary stirred up the fire, which was to all appearance quite black; it blazed up, but the oven was cold. She put the pie in, and blew the fire; but the paste was quite white and soft when her brothers came home, eager and hungry. “Oh! Mary, what a manager you are!” said Tom. “Any one else would have remembered and put the pie in in time.” Mary’s eyes filled full of tears; but she did not try to justify herself. She went on blowing, till Jem took the bellows, and kindly told her to take off her bonnet, and lay the cloth. Jem was always kind. He gave Tom the best baked side of the pie, and quietly took the side himself where the paste was little better than dough, and the potatoes quite hard; and when he caught Mary’s little anxious face watching him, as he had to leave part of his dinner untasted, he said, “Mary, I should like this pie warmed up for supper; there is nothing so good as potato-pie made hot the second time.” Tom went off saying, “Mary, I would not have you for a wife on any account. Why, my dinner would never be ready, and your sad face would take away my appetite if it were.” But Jem kissed her and said, “Never mind, Mary! you and I will live together, old maid and old bachelor.” So she could set to with spirit to her cleaning, thinking there never was such a good brother as Jem; and as she dwelt upon his perfections, she thought who it was who had given her such a good, kind brother, and felt her heart full of gratitude to Him. She scoured and cleaned in right-down earnest. Jenny helped her for some time, delighted to be allowed to touch and lift things. But then she grew tired; and Bill was out of doors; so Mary had to do all by herself, and grew very nervous and frightened, lest all should not be finished and tidy against Tom came home. And the more frightened she grew, the worse she got on. Her hands trembled, and things slipped out of them; and she shook so, she could not lift heavy pieces of furniture quickly and sharply; and in the middle the clock struck the hour for her brothers’ return, when all ought to have been tidy and ready for tea. She gave it up in despair, and began to cry. “Oh, Bessy, Bessy! why did you go away? I have tried hard, and I cannot do it,” said she aloud, as if Bessy could hear. “Dear Mary, don’t cry,” said Jenny, suddenly coming away from her play. “I’ll help you. I am very strong. I can do anything. I can lift that pan off the fire.”