, please."

"What do you mean by a good one, Nannie?"

"One that will teach us to be good," said Nannie in a low voice.

"Oh, nonsense!" said Jack; "that wasn't what I meant. I want a pretty
story."

"So do I," said Belle.

"And so do I," chimed in Charlie.

"Well," said sister Mary, "can't I tell you a good story, and a pretty
one too?"

"I suppose so," said Jack, kicking the foot-stool.

"Well, she can't tell us anything, Jack," said Belle, "if you don't keep
your feet still."

"I think you are rather hard on Jack; but never mind. Now," said sister
Mary, "we'll have our story:--

* * * * *

"It was a poor little room the sun was looking into, just as it was
setting. There was no carpet on the floor, and no curtains to the
window. The old grate was cracked and rusty, and contained a few red
coals among the embers. By the fire, in a curious old chair, roughly
made, yet looking comfortable, sat a little girl rocking herself backwards
and forwards. It was a very pale face that the sun shone upon, and a very
thin, pale hand it was that the little girl was holding up, shading her
eyes. Every little while the girl dropped her hand, and looked towards
the window with a bright smile,--and no wonder! for there stood the
prettiest of rose-bushes, with bright green leaves, and one dark crimson
bud just opening. She sat watching it, till the last rays of the sun died
away, and it began to grow dark. Then the look of sadness came back to
her face, and drawing her old shawl closer round her, she sat leaning
her head on her hand. By-and-by there was a sound of footsteps, and the
door opened, and a man entered with a slow and heavy step. She turned
round with a quick smile,--'O father! what has made you so late?'

"He said nothing; but, stooping down, lifted her in his arms, and sat
down by the fire. Though he lifted her very gently, an expression of
pain passed over her face, and you could see that the poor limbs hung
shrunken and helpless. He was a rough-looking man, with a rough, heavy
voice; but when he spoke to her, his tones were very gentle, and as he
held her in his lap he stroked her hair softly and kissed her again and
again.

"'How have you been to-day, Lizzie?'

"'Pretty well, father. When neighbour Green came in to see to the
fire, she brought me some nice warm broth for my dinner. Wasn't it kind,
father--and wasn't it odd too? I had been thinking all the morning how
much