They left her alone. Ellen had coloured, but William's words did not hit very sore; since John's talk with her about the matter referred to, she had thought of it humbly and wisely; it is only pride that makes such fault-finding very hard to bear. She was very sorry, however, that they had fallen out again, and that her own passion, as she feared, had been the cause. A few tears had to be wiped away before she could see exactly how the old tree stood, — then, taking up her pencil, she soon forgot everything in her work. It was finished, and with head now on one side, now on the other, she was looking at her picture with very great satisfaction, when her eye caught the figure of John standing before her. "Is it done?" said he. "It is done," said Ellen, smiling, as she rose up to let him come. He sat down to look at it. "It is very well, he said — "better than I expected — it is very well indeed. Is this your _first_ trial, Ellen?" "Yes — the first." "You found it pleasant work?" "Oh, very, very pleasant. I like it dearly." "Then I will teach you. This shows you have a taste for it, and that is precisely what I wanted to find out. I will give you an easier copy next time. I rather expected, when you sat down," said he, smiling a little, "that the old tree would grow a good deal more crooked under your hands than I meant it to be." Ellen blushed exceedingly. "I do believe, Mr. John," she said, stammering, "that you know everything I am thinking about." "I might do that, Ellen, without being as wise as an oracle. But I do not expect to make any very painful discoveries in that line." Ellen thought, if he did not, it would not be her fault. She truly repented her momentary anger and hasty speech to William. Not that he did not deserve it, or that it was not true; but it was unwise, and had done mischief; and "it was not a bit like peace-making, nor meek at all," Ellen said to herself. She had been reading that morning the fifth chapter of Matthew, and it ran in her head, "Blessed are the meek" — "Blessed are the peace-makers; for they shall be called the children of God." She strove to get back a pleasant feeling towards her young companions, and prayed that she might not be angry at anything they should say. She was tried again at tea- time. Miss Sophia had quitted the table, bidding William hand the dough-nuts to those who could not reach them. Marianne took a great while to make her choice. Her brother grew impatient. "Well, I hope you have suited yourself?" said he. "Come, Miss Montgomery, don't you be as long; my arm is tired. Shut your eyes, and then you'll be sure to get the biggest one in the basket." "No, Ellen," said John, who none of the children thought was near — "it would be ungenerous — I wouldn't deprive Master William of his best arguments." "What do you mean by my arguments?" said William, sharply. "Generally, those which are the most difficult to take in," answered his tormentor with perfect gravity.