"Why, Mary Davis," exclaimed Jane, as Mary entered the room, "who would have thought of seeing you here to-day? Are you come to sit with us, and help us to get over this miserable day some how or other? I'm sure I don't know what to do with myself." * * See Frontispiece. Mary delivered her mother's message, and observed with pleasure that Jane's countenance brightened up from its dull, heavy expression of idleness and ill-temper, though Ellen still looked as sulky as before. "I'm sure it's very kind of your mother, and of you too, Mary, to think of us, and to come in all this rain to ask us," said Jane. "You need not praise my kindness," said Mary, smiling, "for I have only called on my way from church." "What, have you been to church such a morning as this? You are wonderfully good I'm sure, and don't care about your clothes as much as I do." "My cloak and boots are water-proof, you know; but I must not stay, so what shall I tell my mother?" "That I shall be very glad to come, very glad indeed, won't you, Ellen?" "I—I really don't know," stammered Ellen; "perhaps it may clear up yet." "O no, I don't believe it will; there isn't a gleam of sunshine or a bit of blue sky to be seen. I give it up altogether for to-day, and you wouldn't be so ill-natured as to go without me, even if the weather should get a little better." There was no knowing exactly what ill-natured thing Ellen might not have been meditating, if her countenance at all indicated her feelings. "Well," said she at last, "I'm much obliged to you, Mary, but I don't think I shall like to go out at all." "I will come," said Jane, cheerfully; "what time shall I be at your house?" "As early as you please," replied Mary. "I shall not be at home from my Sunday school class till between four and five, but my mother will be very glad to see you;" and away tripped Mary over the mud, and through the rain to her frugal dinner at home, before attending the Sunday school, where she taught a class of little children, few of whom would probably be present that day. "I wonder at you, Jane," said Ellen scornfully, as soon as the sisters were alone; "why you will have a duller afternoon than sitting here looking out of our window; and somebody might happen to come that would cheer us up a little; but at Mrs. Davis's, in that stupid dull lane, what in the world is there to see? Besides, you will get wet in going." "O but I need not put on anything very nice to go there, you know; and it will be a change, for I really am tired of sitting here. I like Mary too; and as she is no gossip, she has not asked us to come for the sake of amusing herself, but because she knew we must be disappointed of going where we liked; and I call that kind."