nd and put herself in Lizzie's place.

"Yes; but it's no use. I can't help it, and may be things will get
better by and by, and I'll have my wish," answered Lizzie, more
hopefully, because Belle's pity warmed her heart and made her troubles
seem lighter.

"What is your wish?" asked Belle, hoping mamma wouldn't come just yet,
for she was getting interested in the stranger.

"To have a nice little room, and make flowers, like a French girl I
know. It's such pretty work, and she gets lots of money, for every one
likes her flowers. She shows me how, sometimes, and I can do leaves
first-rate; but--"

There Lizzie stopped suddenly, and the color rushed up to her forehead;
for she remembered the little rose in her pocket and it weighed upon her
conscience like a stone.

Before Belle could ask what was the matter, Marie came in with a tray of
cake and fruit, saying:

"Here's your lunch, Miss Belle."

"Put it down, please; I'm not ready for it yet."

And Belle shook her head as she glanced at Lizzie, who was staring hard
at the fire with such a troubled face that Belle could not bear to see
it.

Jumping out of her nest of cushions, she heaped a plate with good
things, and going to Lizzie, offered it, saying, with a gentle courtesy
that made the act doubly sweet:

"Please have some; you must be tired of waiting."

But Lizzie could not take it; she could only cover her face and cry;
for this kindness rent her heart and made the stolen flower a burden too
heavy to be borne.

"Oh, don't cry so! Are you sick? Have I been rude? Tell me all about
it; and if I can't do anything, mamma can," said Belle, surprised and
troubled.

"No; I'm not sick; I'm bad, and I can't bear it when you are so good to
me," sobbed Lizzie, quite overcome with penitence; and taking out the
crumpled rose, she confessed her fault with many tears.

"Don't feel so much about such a little thing as that," began Belle,
warmly; then checked herself, and added, more soberly, "It WAS wrong to
take it without leave; but it's all right now, and I'll give you as many
roses as you want, for I know you are a good girl."

"Thank you. I didn't want it only because it was pretty, but I wanted to
copy it. I can't get any for myself, and so I can't do my make-believe
ones well. Madame won't even lend me the old ones in the store, and
Estelle has none to spare for me, because I can't pay her for teaching
me. She gives me bits of muslin and wire and things, and