"I did not know one had to be so careful with children." "It is the case, though, and if it seems to you that Belle has made too much of this affair, you must remember that she must adapt herself to the very small world in which Mabel lives, and whose trivial wants are as great to her as the most serious ones will be, by and by." "I shall write to B.--Mrs. Heath--this very minute," cried Margaret, "but what shall I call her?" "I think she has settled that. Call her Belle. But, before you begin I want you to see what a lovely little note the mail has brought me!" And if Margaret reads it, why shouldn't we? DEAR MRS. GREY:--I have not the faintest idea that you are pining for a letter from me, but it is a relief to me now and then to say that I love you, and the size of the sheet I write it on is no symbol how much. I am reading a delightful book to my invalid auntie; in it a lady speaks of a friend as an "Amen to the Bible." _That_, say I, is what Mrs. Grey has been to me. Again, "Mrs. Jameson was the consoler of her sex in England." Ah, say I, _Mrs. Grey_ is the consoler of her sex in America. But you will think I have been kissing the blarney stone. But when people _mean_ things, can't they say them? I stay with auntie all the time, day and night, and am real happy in a quiet way, for I do feel, in a small degree, I know, but a great deal more than ever before, the loving-kindness of my Heavenly Father, the _goodness and severity of God_. Yours, lovingly and gratefully, HELENA. "What a graceful little note, and on what a tiny sheet!" exclaimed Margaret. "Who is this Helena? Any one I know?" "You have never seen her, but she often visits me, and I love her much. Her forte is in writing charming letters. I shall want you to know her. But you want to write to Belle now, and I won't detain you." Margaret rushed off to her room, and rushed, as it were, a shovelful of hot coals at Belle, as reply to her letter. Then what receptacle was worthy to hold this treasure? Her eye fell upon one object after another, and rejected them, till it rested upon her Russian leather mouchoir-case. "The very thing!" she cried; pulled out the handkerchiefs, thrust them, _en masse_, into a drawer, replaced them with the letter, and then flew to hug and kiss Mabel, on whom she vented the feeling she could not express. Ah, Margaret, you will have many, many such idols as you are now making of Belle Heath! How many times they will fall off the altar, and you will put them in their place again! What power they will have to swell your heart with joy, to melt it into tears! And yet--thank God that you have a heart! for even an aching one is better than none at all. "I want you to get dressed, now," said Mrs. Grey, "for I have ordered the carriage, and am going to make some visits."