he proper time of chastisement, knowing that it is likely to
be doubled on that account? Alas, no!

But I must crave pardon for sermonising, and return to the sick chamber,
for Mabel's papa and mamma have come to pay their promised visit. Poor
girl, she is so thin and pale that papa, who has only seen her twice
during her illness, is quite shocked, and sitting down beside the
arm-chair, declares that he can scarcely believe she is his once plump,
rosy girl. Mamma has seen her often, and has shed many a tear over her
suffering child; but still it was a comfort to her to know that Mabel
was in such good hands. Sister Julia is also here, looking very
sorrowful; but Aunt Mary says:

'Now I am not going to permit anybody who draws a long face to remain in
my nursery; so those who look as if they were preparing to cry, instead
of to smile, must please take a walk in the garden, till they have
recovered themselves. What say you, Freddy, to this?' inquired Aunt Mary
of her little nephew, who stood looking on, not knowing seemingly
whether he was expected to smile or to cry, though on hearing his aunt's
cheery address, he came to the conclusion that it was not necessary for
him to commence the disagreeable alternative, although it must be
confessed he was a ready practitioner in yelling bouts.

'I should like to go into the garden, aunt,' responded Freddy. 'I want
to see Clara's hens and chickens; may I go now?'

'No, not just now, dear,' replied his aunt; 'your cousin will go with
you presently; she is engaged just at present, so you will have to
wait.'

This waiting, however, did not at all suit the impatient spirit of
Master Fred, and on Aunt Mary's going out of the room he gave expression
to his vexation.

'Why can't I go into the garden by myself, I wonder?' he exclaimed
passionately to his mamma, by whose chair he was standing. 'Aunt needn't
think that I should hurt the fowls; it is very unkind of her.'

All this was said in a subdued tone, that papa, who was talking with
Mabel, might not hear.

'Hush, hush, Freddy!' said his mother; 'your Aunt Mary is never unkind:
you should not say such things of her.'

'But _I_ think she is very unkind,' repeated the boy emphatically, as if
what he said must settle the point; but it only drew the attention of
his papa, who inquired what the vehement talking was about, and
threatened severe punishment if any of Fred's tempers were exhibited at
Oak Villa.

'Don't check the p