ood education, he was
doing his duty by the boy. His aunt considered that if in the holidays
she let him rove about as he pleased, saw to the repairs of his clothes,
sent him back fitted out comfortably, with a little pocket money and a
little _advice_, she had done _her_ duty by the child. But poor Joe! No
kind mother ever stole to his bedside to whisper warnings and gentle
reproof if the conduct of the day had been wrong; no knee ever bent to
ask for grace and blessing on that orphan boy; no sympathy was ever
expressed in one of his joys or griefs; no voice encouraged him in
self-denial; no heart rejoiced in his little victories over temper and
pride. Now, instead of blaming and disliking, will you not pity and love
the unlovable and neglected lad?

He had not been long under Mr. Barton's care, and after all, what could
a schoolmaster do in twelve months, to remedy the evils which had been
growing up for twelve years? He did his best, but the result was very
little, and perhaps the most useful lesson Joe ever had was that which
Fred gave him about the Dahlias.

CHAPTER TENTH.

EDITH'S VISIT TO JOE.

Fred and Edith were sitting in the Canary room one Saturday afternoon,
shortly after the event recorded in the last chapter; Edith listening
with an earnest interest to the oft-repeated tale of the fall in the
wood.

"How glad you must have felt, Fred, when you thought he was dead, that
you had not returned his unkindness."

"Glad! Edith, I cannot tell you how glad; but glad is'nt the word,
either. On my knees that night, and often since, I have thanked God who
helped me to check the temper that arose. Those words out of the Bible
did it: 'If any man smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other
also.' Emilie told me that text one day, and I said I did'nt think I
could ever do that, but I was helped somehow; but come, Edith, let us
go and see Emilie Schomberg, I have'nt seen her since all this happened,
though you have. How beautifully you keep my cages Edith! I think you
are very clever; the birds get on better than they did with me. Is there
any one you would like to give a bird to, dear? For I am sure you ought
to share the pleasures, you have plenty of the trouble of my canaries."

"Oh, I have pleasure enough, and their songs always seem like rejoicings
over our reconciliation that day ever so long ago; you remember, don't
you, Fred? but I should like a bird _very_ much to give to Miss
Schomberg