rise and admiration, tried the
pieces herself, and in a few weeks knew all that it had taken Mildred
six months to learn.

That morning, as ill-luck would have it, when she was waiting at the
piano for her mother to come and give her her lesson, Beth began to
try a piece with a passage in it that she could not play.

"Do show me how to do this," she said when Mrs. Caldwell came.

"Oh, you can't do that," Mrs. Caldwell exclaimed. "It is far too
difficult for you."

"But I do so want to learn it," Beth ventured.

"Oh, very well," her mother answered. "But I warn you!"

Beth began, and got on pretty well till she came to the passage she
did not understand, and there she stumbled.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Caldwell exclaimed.

Beth tried again nervously.

"That's not right," her mother cried. "What does that sign mean? Now,
what is it? Just think!"

Beth, with a flushed face, was thinking hard, but nothing came of it.

"Will you speak?" her mother said angrily. "You are the most obstinate
child that ever lived. Now, say something."

"It's not a shake," Beth ventured.

"A shake!" her mother exclaimed, giving her a hard thump on the back
with her clenched fist. "Now, no more obstinacy. Tell me what it is at
once."

"I don't know that sign," Beth faltered in desperation.

"Oh, you don't know it!" her mother said, now fairly fuming, and
accompanying every word by a hard thump of her clenched fist. "Then
I'll teach you. I've a great mind to beat you as long as I can stand
over you."

Beth was a piteous little figure, crouched on the piano-stool, her
back bent beneath her mother's blows, and every fibre of her sensitive
frame shrinking from her violence; but she made no resistance, and
Mrs. Caldwell carried out her threat. When she could beat Beth no
longer, she told her to sit there until she knew that sign, and then
she left her. Beth clenched her teeth, and an ugly look came into her
face. There had been dignity in her endurance--the dignity of
self-control; for there was the force in her to resist, had she
thought it right to resist. What she was thinking while her mother
beat her was: "I hope I shall not strike you back."

Harriet had heard the scolding, and when Mrs. Caldwell had gone she
came and peeped in at the door.

"She's bin' thumpin' you again, 'as she?" she said with a grin. "Wot
'a ye bin' doin' now?"

"What business is that of yours?" said Beth defiantly. It was bad
enough to be beaten