no empty striving for
compliments; but why was it the truth? She worked hard; Mollie idled.
She was conscientious, self-sacrificing, and methodical; Mollie knew not
the meaning of method, and was frankly selfish on occasions. She
worried herself ill about ways and means, and kept sedulously within the
bounds of her small allowance; Mollie took no heed for the morrow, and
was in a chronic condition of penury or debt.

Despite these striking contrasts, the fact remained, however, that if
any member of the household were ill, or had a secret to confide, or a
favour to request, they betook themselves to the heedless Mollie, rather
than to herself. Dearly as she loved her sister, Ruth felt a little
rankling of soreness mingling with her mystification. She did not yet
realise the magic power which cheerfulness wields in this world, or the
charm of a sunny face and a ready rippling laugh. Hearts turn to the
sun as instinctively as plants, and forgive much for the sake of the
warmth and glow.

"They love you best," said Ruth, and honest Mollie did not contradict,
but stretched out her hand, and laid it caressingly on her sister's arm.

"But I love you, and I can't do without you, Ruth! I couldn't live
alone, for you and I belong to each other. The others are dears in
their way; but they are only `steps,' and we two seem so close together.
Imagine Attica without you! Imagine going to bed alone, with no one to
talk to about the events of the day! What does the horrid old money
matter? We always have been poor, and we always shall be. As long as I
can remember mother has been in despair about the bills; but we wriggle
through somehow, and we shall go on wriggling. It's horrid of you to
talk of going away! Think of me!"

"That's selfish, Mollie. You are the last person I ought to think of
just now. Mother comes first, and the poor old pater, and all those
children. It comes to this, that I can't stand the present state of
affairs any longer. I feel ashamed of taking even the pittance we have;
and I'm tired of the pittance, too, and want to make money for myself,
and not have to think a dozen times over before spending a penny!"

Mollie laughed--a pert, derisive little laugh.

"Sounds well, my dear; but, if it comes to that, what _can_ you do? You
can't teach, for you are not accomplished enough for advanced pupils,
nor patient enough for children. Do you remember trying to teach
Drummond to read, and rappi