to Harriet as he went off chuckling.

"Did you hear, Beth?" Bernadine complained; "he called us little
devils."

"All right," Beth answered casually. But Bernadine was disgusted. She
was one of those pious children who like to stand high in the
estimation of the grown-up people; and she disapproved of Beth's
conduct when it got her into trouble. She was like the kind of man who
enjoys being vicious so long as he is not found out by any one who
will think the less of him for it; when he is found out he excuses
himself, and blames his associates. Bernadine never resisted Beth's
eloquent persuasions, nor the luring fascination of her schemes; but
when she had had her full share of the pleasures of naughtiness, and
was tired and cross, her conscience smote her, and then she told
mamma. This did her good, and got Beth punished, which made Bernadine
feel that she had expiated her own naughtiness and been forgiven, and
also made her feel sorry for Beth--a nice kind feeling, which she
always enjoyed.

Beth despised her for her conscientious treachery, and retaliated by
tempting her afresh. One day she lured her out on to the tiles through
an attic window in the roof, at the back of the house. It would be
such fun to sit astride on the roof-ridge, and look right down into
the street, she said, and across Mrs. Davy's orchard to the fields on
that side, and out to sea on the other.

"And things will come into our minds up there--such lovely things,"
she proceeded, beguiling Bernadine to distract her attention as she
helped her up. When they were securely seated, Bernadine began to
grumble.

"Things don't come into my mind," she whined.

"Don't they? Why, I was just thinking if we were to fall we should
certainly be killed," Beth answered cheerfully. "We should come down
thump, and that would crack our skulls, and our brains would roll out
on the pavement. Ough! wouldn't they look nasty, just like a sheep's!
And mamma and Aunt Victoria would rush out, and Harriet and Mrs. Davy,
and they'd have to hold mamma up by the arms. Then they'd pick us up,
and carry us in, and lay us out on a bed, and say they were beautiful
in their lives, and in death they were not divided; and when they shut
the house up at night and it was all still, mamma would cry. She'd be
always crying, especially for you, Bernadine, because you're not such
a trouble as I am. And when you were buried, and the worms were eating
you, she would give all the wor