e any thing about you, you only just make believe that
they do. It's horrid to fit a doll's clothes; she sticks her arm out
stiff and won't bend it a bit. I'd rather have my class than all the
dolls in the world."

"Teaching those children is having a capital effect on Mary herself,"
said Mrs. Forcythe to her husband after Mary had gone away. "She gains
all the time in patience and industry, and is twice as careful of her
things as she used to be. I found her crying the other day because she
had torn her oldest frock, and the darn was sure to come in a bad place
when the frock was made over for Gretchen! Think of Mary's crying
because of having torn any thing!"

Time flies rapidly when people are busy and happy. Days crept into
weeks, weeks into months; before any one knew it two years were passed
and another Conference day was at hand. It met this time at Redding.

Mary, a tall girl of fifteen now, went with her mother to hear the
appointments read. The Redding people had applied to keep Mr. Forcythe
for another term, but the request was denied; and, when his name was
reached on the list, it appeared that he was to go back to Valley Hill.

"There's one person I know will be pleased," said the Bishop, pausing on
his way out of church to speak to Mrs. Forcythe. "Mistress Mary here!
She'll be glad to go back to Valley Hill again. But, hey-day! she
doesn't look glad. What! tears in her eyes. How is this?"

"I--don't--know--" sighed Mary. "I thought--I thought we should stay
here. Of course I feel sorry just at first."

"Sorry! Not want to leave Redding! Why, what a contrary little maid you
are! Don't you recollect how you cried, and said Redding was horrid."

"Yes," said Mary, on the verge of a sob. "But I like it now, Bishop. I
don't mind the fish a bit, and the funny old streets and the posy-beds
with cockle-shell edges are so nice, and the bells sound so sweet on
Sunday morning!--I like Redding ever so much."

"But your garden,--I remember how badly you felt to leave that. You
can't have a garden in Redding."

"No, but I have my little girls. I'd rather have them than a garden, a
great deal!"

"What does she mean?" asked the Bishop, turning to Mrs. Forcythe.

"Her sewing-class," replied Mrs. Forcythe, smiling.

"There they are!" cried Mary eagerly. "They're waiting for me. Do look
at them, Bishop; it's those five little girls in a row behind the second
pillar from the door. That big one is Norah, and the on