Mary had, for some time, had an uneasiness as to this very matter. She felt that here was her weak point, but she did not like to examine and make sure of it, which was as wise as if a ship's captain should refuse to examine a suspected spar or defective cable. She was strong everywhere else, and she did not consider that the weakest link—not the strongest—measures the strength of the chain. Even now she was made aware that she had been unkind to Calista and unjust to Miss McPherson, but she would not acknowledge to herself that the root of the trouble lay in her inordinate love of praise. No, Calista had provoked her and Miss McPherson had taken pains to mortify her, but it was her duty to overlook it, and she would do so by treating Calista just as usual, even by offering to show her the fan stitch—no, she would not do that, either; but if Calista asked her again, she would not refuse. Smoothing matters over in this fashion was not the way to attain peace, and Mary was destined to have a still harsher lesson. Calista ran up to Miss Meeks's room and tapped lightly, opening the door in answer to the summons from within. She found Miss Meeks up and dressed. She looked pale and worn, but declared herself quite able to come down stairs. "I thought I would just tell you that the little girls behaved very well and said their lessons nicely," said Calista. "Did they? I am very glad. I think they are usually good, though I fear I am sometimes sharp with them. Did they say their English kings?" "Yes, ma'am, nicely; and I told them about King Alfred and the oat-cakes, to reward them. Was that right?" "Quite right. I often wish I possessed the talent for narration which some people have. It is quite invaluable in dealing with young children. Will you please fasten my dress, my dear? I am glad you succeeded in interesting the children," continued Miss Meeks. "I shall, perhaps, ask you to help me again, some day. Miss Settson is very good and conscientious, but she has an unfortunate manner with children." "I am sure I shall be glad to help you at any time, Miss Meeks," said Calista, as they went down stairs together. "But I am surprised to hear you say that about Mary. I thought she did everything better than any one else—let alone poor me." "It is not to be denied that she does a great many things better than 'poor you,'" replied Miss Meeks, with a smile, which was not at all severe this time. "Keeping her desk in order and copying her exercises, among others. But different people have different gifts, you know." "I am sure I am glad if teaching is one of mine," observed Calista. "It seems the only way for a lady to earn a living nowadays." "Surely there will be no necessity for that," said Miss Meeks. "I supposed you were your aunt's heir as a matter of course."