n window, that she might hear Mrs. Mortlake and
Adelaide read aloud in the porch. And next morning, she actually stopped
and listened at the school-room door while Adelaide was repeating her
French lesson; and she returned again, and stood behind the door, to
hear Mrs. Mortlake instructing her sister in a new song accompanied on
the harp. All that day and the next, she felt as if she was actually
sick of doing nothing; and she absolutely languished to be allowed once
more to take a book and read, or to draw, or play on the piano. Even
sewing, she thought, would now seem delightful to her.

On Saturday morning Rosalind met Adelaide in her brown linen apron with
long sleeves, going into the housekeeper's room to assist in making
cakes and pastry. She longed to go in with her, and to do her part as
formerly; and her longing increased when she heard the sound of beating
eggs, and grinding spice. She had hitherto looked forward with great
pleasure to her holiday on Saturday afternoon. Now, after doing nothing
all the week, Saturday afternoon had no charms for her; and she was glad
to find it was to be devoted to a ride in the carriage, through a
pleasant part of the adjacent country.

"Well, Rosalind," said Josephine, as they were taking off their bonnets,
after their return from the ride, "you have now spent a week in _my_
way. Do you not wish you could pass your whole life in the same manner?"

_Rosalind._ No, indeed--nor even another week. This week of idleness has
seemed to me like a month; and I have no desire to renew the
experiment. I have never in my life gone to bed so tired as after those
days of doing nothing. I find that want of occupation is to me absolute
misery; though it may be very delightful to _you_, as you have been
brought up in a different manner, and have never been accustomed to any
sort of employment. Yet, still I think you would be much happier, if you
had something to do.

In the evening Mr. Edington said to his youngest daughter, "Well,
Rosalind, how do you like your week of idleness? Are you going to
request Mrs. Mortlake to lengthen the term of your enjoyment?"

_Rosalind._ O no, dear father; it has been no enjoyment to _me_. On the
contrary, I am glad to think that it is now over. I have found it
absolutely a punishment.

_Mr. Edington._ So I suspected.

_Rosalind._ And I deserved it, for allowing myself to become
dissatisfied with the manner in which Mrs. Mortlake chose that I should
o