out them in a way that made
each book as good, or better, than a dozen.

So there is something to be said for this part of the 'ancien
regime'--if you do not understand what that means, you will some
day--after all!

The volume that Cecil Desart brought into the nursery was called 'Faults
Corrected; or,' (there was always long ago an "or" in the titles of
books) 'Beneficent Influences.'

"Some of the stories are stupid," said Cecil, as she sat down. "Miss
Barclay said it was her mother's when she was a little girl, so it must
be rather ancient; but I think I've found one that will amuse you, and
that Carrots can understand."

"What's it called?" said Floss, peering over her sister's shoulder.
"'Faults Corrected; or, Ben--ben--' what word's that, Cecil?"

"Sit _down_, Floss, and be quiet, or I won't read to you," said Cecil,
emphatically. "That's the name of the whole book you are looking at, and
you wouldn't understand the word if I told it you. The name of the story
I'm going to read to you is, 'The Bewitched Tongue; or, Think before you
speak. A Fairy Tale.'"

[Illustration: "Now, be quiet all of you, I'm going to begin." _To face
page_ 114.]

Floss would have liked to clap her hands, but she was afraid of another
snub from Cecil, so she restrained her feelings.

"When there come very long words," continued Cecil--"there often are in
old books--I'll change them to easy ones, so that Carrots may
understand. Now, be quiet all of you, I'm going to begin. 'The Bewitched
Tongue, etc.' I'm not going to read all the title again. 'In a beautiful
mansion' (that just means a fine house, Carrots) 'surrounded by pleasure
grounds of great extent, there lived, many years ago, a young girl named
Elizabetha. She was of charming appearance and pleasing manners; her
parents loved her devotedly, her brothers and sisters looked upon her
with amiable affection, her teachers found her docile and intelligent.
Yet Elizabetha constantly found herself, despite their affection,
shunned and feared by her best and nearest friends, and absolutely
disliked by those who did not know her well enough to feel assured of
the real goodness of her heart.

'This sad state of things was all owing to one unfortunate habit. She
had a hasty tongue. Whatever thought was uppermost in her mind at the
moment, she expressed without reflection; she never remembered the
wholesome adage "Think before you speak," or that other excellent
saying, "Second thou