"There will be plenty of worshippers to tell you so, sooner or later. But I want to impress it upon you, that the greater your gifts the greater your responsibility. Now several paths lie before you. You can devote yourself to art and win a name for yourself, I do not doubt. Or you can choose a literary life, and shine there. And if it were necessary for you to do something for your own support, either of those careers would be honorable. But there is a third vocation in a human sphere open to you. It is to be one of the truest, the best, the most unworldly, most unselfish of women." "Like you, aunty," said Margaret, her eyes moistening. "I choose your vocation." They sat silently together after this, until the rest of the family joined them; and after a time Laura asked: "Where is Hatty? Seems to me it takes her an age to get her kittens to bed." "Something is going wrong with Kitty," explained Belle. "I thought Mabel would never get to sleep, it distressed her so to hear Kitty cry." "But why should Kitty cry?" asked Mrs. Grey, uneasily. "She appeared to be perfectly well when she went up to bed." "It's something about saying her prayers," said Belle, reluctantly. "Poor Hatty means right, but I think she makes mistakes." "That child is crying dreadfully," said Laura, going out into the hall, and listening. "Hatty doesn't know how to manage her. Mamma, do go up and see what the matter is." Mrs. Grey hesitated. She was not fond of meddling with her sons' wives. Just then, however, a servant appeared with a message to the effect that "Mrs. George" would like to see her, and she flew up-stairs, alarmed. She found Hatty flushed and excited, standing over Kitty, aged twenty months, fast asleep on the floor, her breast heaving, the tears shining on her lashes. "Oh, mother, what shall I do? Kitty wouldn't say her prayers, and I said she shouldn't go to bed till she had, and I slapped her arms over and over again, and she wouldn't yield, but at last dropped to sleep here on the floor. And I've got to leave her here all night, and she'll catch her death of cold. Oh, dear, I wish I'd gone home with Fred. Fred can always conquer her." "My dear Hatty," said Mrs. Grey, "I am very sorry for you." There was no reproach in tone or look, but the sincere sorrow of a loving, sympathizing heart, and Hatty, young and inexperienced, burst into tears. "I never saw such a will," she said, "never." "She comes honestly by it," was the reply; "and it will be of service by and by. Meantime I would put her into bed, if I were you." "But that would be breaking my word; and Fred says I must _never_ do that. He says there is a special blessing for him who swears to his own hurt. Oh, my little darling, how can I let you lie on that cold floor all night?"