side of the house, where it managed to get on very well, and perhaps
will have more buds and flowers for several springs to come.

There is one thing more to tell. Pansy's godmother was so touched by the
story of the pansy, that she sent an "extra" present to the vicarage
children that summer, though it wasn't any "birthday" at all. The
present was a beautiful case of ferns, with a glass cover, so that it
could stand in the house all the year round. It was placed in the window
of the landing on to which the nursery opened, and there, I hope, it
stands still. For it would be impossible to tell the delight this
indoors forest gives to the children, who have grown so clever at
managing it, that Bob really thinks they should try for a prize at the
next "window gardening" exhibition.

For there _are_ such cheerful things as that, one is glad to know, even
at smoky Northclough!

[Illustration]

PET'S HALF-CROWN

Mammas have troubles sometimes, though you mightn't think it. They have
indeed. I remember when I was a little girl that it seemed to me big
people _couldn't_ have real troubles; that only children had them. Big
people could do as they liked, get up when they liked, not go to bed
_till_ they liked; eat what they chose, dress as they pleased, do no
lessons, and were never scolded. Things do not look quite like that to
me now, when for many many more years than I was a child I have been a
big person. However, as each of you will find out for himself or herself
all about big people in good time, I won't try to explain it to you.
Only, I do think the world might get on better if little people
believed that big ones _have_ their troubles, and--if big people
believed and remembered the same thing about little ones.

Some children seem wise before their time. They early learn what
"sympathy" means--they begin almost before they can talk to try to bear
some part of other people's burdens.

A little girl I once knew, who was called "Pet," (though of course she
had a proper name as well,) was one of these. She was a gentle little
thing, with large soft rather anxious-looking blue eyes; eyes that
filled with tears rather _too_ easily, perhaps, both for her own
troubles and other people's.

But she got more sensible as she grew older, and by the time she was ten
or so she had found out that there are often much better ways of showing
you are sorry for others than by crying about them, and that as for
crying abou