There she sat, upon a low stool, doll and picture-book lying unheeded at her feet, as she watched the slanting beams of light which streamed in between the crimson curtains and poured life and gladness over all within the pleasant room. There she sat, watching them thoughtfully, yet with a half-smile upon her lips, as they travelled slowly and steadily from spot to spot, now over the carpet, now up the table-cloth, now touching the gilded mirror-frame and making it flash with added brightness, and now falling softly on a vase of lovely flowers and bringing out their brilliant colors in new and more perfect beauty. And now in their noiseless but busy march they fell upon her own little self, the brightest and sunniest thing in all the room, to the loving eyes which watched her. "What is my darling thinking of?" asked Mr. Powers, breaking the stillness. In an instant Belle was upon his knee and nestling close to him; but she did not answer his question till it was repeated. "What were you thinking of, my daughter?" he asked again, laying his hand fondly on the little round head, with its short, dark rings of hair. "About sunbeams, papa," answered the child, turning her eyes again upon the bar of light, which was now quivering and shimmering among and over the prisms of the chandelier above their heads. "Ay, they are very pretty," said her father. "But it was not about _those_ sunbeams, papa, though they did make the thinking come into my head. It was about being a sunbeam. I would like to be a little sunbeam, papa." "And so you may, and so you are, my darling," said the father. "You are papa's little sunbeam, the brightest sunbeam he has on earth; and his way would be very dark and sad without you." "Yes, papa," said Belle: "you mean I am your comfort, and you are my sunbeam, papa, 'cause you are my comfort; but I was thinking I would like to be a sunbeam to other people too. I wonder if I could. Maggie Bradford says I could." "I am sure you could, darling." "Maggie does say such nice things, papa; and so does Bessie; and sometimes when a thing does not seem very pleasant, or as if I would like to do it, they talk about it so that it seems very nice indeed, and so very right that I feel in a great hurry to do it. That is, if I do not feel naughty; for do you know, papa,"--and Belle's voice took a mournful tone,--"do you know sometimes I am so _very_ naughty that I feel like doing a thing just because I know I oughtn't. Papa, could you have b'lieved that of me?" "Yes," said Mr. Powers, smiling: "I could believe that of any one, Belle."