wing fire. "If
I were Aunt Meg, I should be positively ashamed of myself--peevish,
cross thing that she is. What a contrast to Aunt Judith;" and here
Nellie fell into a fit of musing, which lasted till Miss Deborah came
in with the cloth for supper.

"How is Aunt Meg now?" she inquired, watching Aunt Debby bustling about
on hospitable thoughts intent. "Is she better?"

"Well, yes," was the reply, given with a little twinkle of the eye;
"and a good night's rest will work wonders. You must excuse your aunt
this evening, Nellie; she is not always so fretful, and an invalid's
life has its hard times."

Miss Deborah spoke earnestly, for although she felt justified in saying
a sharp word herself, she could ill brook the idea of any one
disparaging or thinking lightly of her invalid sister. Nellie gave a
slight nod of assent, which seemed to signify approval of Aunt Debby's
words. Nevertheless she retained her own opinion, and mentally
condemned poor Miss Margaret as being both weak and silly.

Supper over, Miss Deborah retired to the kitchen, where her reign as
queen was undisputed, and Miss Latimer, bidding Nellie bring a small
stool and sit down at her feet, began to stroke the soft hair gently,
and ask questions as to the day's proceedings.

"Tell me your first impressions, dear child," said the kind voice
pleasantly; and the young girl, whose heart still ached at the
remembrance of Ada Irvine's stinging words, poured forth the whole
story with a force and passion which astonished even herself.

Aunt Judith listened quietly--so quietly, indeed, that Nellie felt half
ashamed of her vehemence, and imagined she had been making "much ado
about nothing;" but in a few minutes Miss Latimer spoke, and her tones
were very tender as she said:--"So my little Nellie has learned that
school is not the sunny place she fancied it was. Dear child, I think
your new friend gave you very good advice. Don't be a coward, Nellie,
and allow your happiness to be marred by the insolent tongue of a
spoilt girl. Show her a true lady is characterized, not by outward
dress and appearance, but by the innate beauty of heart and soul, and
leave your quiet endurance and pleasant courtesy to speak for
themselves. Dear, it seems to me as if you were just beginning life
now--as if you had but newly entered the lists, and were preparing for
that battle which we have all to fight in this world. The warfare is
seldom, if ever, an easy one, and