elf.

She thought, perhaps, that the very pride in the young girl's
composition would aid her in this task, and in this she was not
mistaken. Mabel this afternoon was permitted to do some of the work she
had brought from home; and what with this indulgence, and the clever and
amusing book her aunt had been reading to them, she had quite recovered
her spirits, and was as lively and cheerful as possible.

'Isn't it time to feed the fowls, Clara?' inquired Mabel, when work and
books were laid aside.

'Yes, dear, it is,' replied her cousin; 'but I should be obliged if you
would feed them for me to-day, as Aunt Mary wants me to write a letter
to dear mamma before post-time.'

'Oh, I shall be glad to do so, very glad!' said Mabel, who had her own
motives for the alacrity she displayed.

'Must I ask Bridget for the corn?' she inquired.

'I dare say you will find it set ready on the kitchen table; Bridget
never forgets,' said Clara, as she arranged her desk and writing
materials.

Mabel ran off in great glee, and was soon busily engaged in her very
agreeable task; yet in spite of her endeavours, she found that it was
impossible to give satisfaction to all her feathered friends. Some were
too greedy, and would insist upon having more than their share, while
others were not courageous enough to stand up for their rights, and so
were easily repulsed, and came very badly off in the general scramble,
notwithstanding Mabel's spirited attempts to make an equitable
distribution. At last she got tired of trying to teach manners to the
cock and hens, so she went to look after the pets, as she called the
chickens. These, as we have before stated, had with their mother a
separate establishment, and so they were permitted to peck their grains
in peace, being in no danger of losing their share; though even among
these tiny things there were contentions for a single grain, which
perhaps three or four would strive after. As Mabel stood watching and
admiring the little downy creatures, the desire came strongly over her,
as it had done before, to take one up in her hand.

'What harm could I do the little creature by just holding it in my hand
for a minute?' said Mabel. 'And as to the old hen pecking at me, I don't
care for that; and I dare say,' she added, 'Clara only told me this to
frighten me.'

As Mabel made this very unjust remark concerning her cousin, she opened
the small door in the wire-work, and put her hand in to seize one