o get the better of her selfishness, but it
conquers her. I will leave her alone for a little, and then I will have
it all out. I could not go away and leave her like that." For Bessie's
warm, affectionate nature could not endure the thought of Hatty's pain.

"I have so much, and she has so little," she said to herself, and her
pity blunted all Hatty's sharp, sarcastic little speeches and took the
sting out of them. "Poor little thing! she does not mean half she
says," she remarked, as a sort of apology to Christine, when Hatty had
marched off with Ella.

"I don't know how you put up with her as you do," observed Christine,
whose patience had been sorely exercised that morning by Hatty's
tempers. "She is treating you as badly as possible. I would rather have
been without her help, if I had been you; we might have had Miss Markham
in for two days; that would have shamed Hatty nicely."

"I don't want to shame her, Chrissy, dear; poor little Hatty! when she
has been working so beautifully, too. She is worrying herself about my
going away, and that makes her cross."

"As though no one else would miss you," returned Christine stormily, for
she was not quite devoid of jealousy. "But there, it is no use my
talking; you will all treat Hatty as though she were a baby, and so she
behaves like a spoiled child. I should like to give her a bit of my
mind." And Christine tossed her pretty head and swept off the last
dress, while Bessie cleared the table.

Bessie's visit was fixed for the following Tuesday, so on Sunday evening
she made up her mind that the time was come for speaking to Hatty. As it
happened, they were keeping house together, for the rest of the family,
the servants included, had gone to church. Hatty had just settled
herself in a corner of the couch, with a book in her hand, expecting
that Bessie would follow her example (for the Lambert girls were all
fond of reading), when a hand was suddenly interposed between her eyes
and the page.

"This is our last quiet evening, Hatty, and I am going to talk instead
of read, so you may as well shut up that big book."

"It takes two to talk," observed Hatty, rather crossly, "and I am not in
the mood for conversation, so you had better let me go on with 'Bishop
Selwyn's Life.'"

"You are not in the mood for reading either," persisted Bessie, and
there was a gleam of fun in her eyes. "When you pucker up your forehead
like that, I know your thoughts are not on your book.