hurried her friend along, and began at once to say:

"It's strange you can't have anything new, without Cynthia being so envious. Just because you've got a handsome new gown, she's so mad, she can't say enough against it. She made all manner of fun of it behind your back, and called it real dowdy. 'I do declare,' she said, tossing back her head, 'for all Sallie is so set up with her new dress, I wouldn't be seen wearing such a vulgar-looking thing.'"

This was what had made Sallie exclaim in anger against her cousin. The reason Matilda was unwilling her companion should explain why she looked feverish, was because she well knew Hatty's character as a peace-maker; and her conscience loudly whispered that she had told much more than was true.

After the girls parted, and she went into her own home, do you think she was happy? Are quarrelsome people generally so? We shall see.

Matilda was the eldest of five children. The baby, as Master Tom, a sturdy little fellow of two years was called, was playing near the steps as she walked up the path from the gate. He gave a shout of welcome; but she pushed over his pile of stones with her foot, laughed at his cry of disappointment, and opened the door, with a frown on her face.

It was Wednesday; and the afternoon was a holiday. She felt quite sure there would be no play for her, and was resolved to show her displeasure at once.

She threw her pile of books into a chair, tossed her hat on another, and, passing through the common sitting-room, asked in a complaining tone,—

"Isn't dinner most ready?"

"Oh, Matilda!" said her mother, "you're just in time; run back as quick as you can to the store, and ask Mr. Pratt to cut you a thick slice of ham. Your father will be home in ten minutes, and be angry if dinner isn't ready. There, catch up your hat, and run quick."

"It's always the way," pouted Matilda, snatching the plate her mother held toward her. "I wanted to eat my dinner, and go nutting; but I never can do any thing."

She did not hurry in the least; but, just outside the gate, met her two brothers, who were quarreling about a jack-knife, one of them had found.

Instead of trying to make peace, she entered into the quarrel, and soon had both of them railing at her.

When her father came from his toil, hungry and impatient for his dinner, his wife was fretting; and his daughter nowhere in sight.

CHAPTER III.

"Oh, how pretty these everlastings are!" she said to herself, stopping to take a nearer view of the late fall flowers; and there's dear Esther sitting at her sewing.

"Am I late?" she asked, running into their one room, which served for parlor, sitting-room and kitchen.

"Oh, no, dear!"

There was an affectionate kiss between the two sisters, and then Hatty, after hanging up her school hat and sack, laid some fresh sticks into the stove, filled the tea-kettle, and put some potatoes already washed into the oven to bake. Then she proceeded to lay on a cloth very coarse, but white as snow; and to set out the common plates they used, her tongue running merrily all the while.

"Oh, Esther! I wish you could see Montworth Falls. The water foams, and dashes, and sparkles so beautifully, I stood a moment to look at it; and then I had to run to catch the girls."

Esther smiled; a patient, calm face hers was, almost always lighted with that trusting, placid smile.

"I can see it," she answered, "almost as well as if I were there. You are my eyes, you know."

"Oh, sister!" Hatty went on, after bringing from the cellar a dish of cold meat and a plate of large cucumber pickles, "the girls are going nutting. Do you suppose I could go? Ethel Frost says chestnuts and shagbarks are ever so thick. There's one reason, specially, why I want to go to-day."

Esther quite laughed this time.

"You know I tell you everything," Hatty went on, her face growing a little anxious. "Sallie Munson is in trouble. I want to make her feel better; and I guess I can."

"Well, my dear peace-maker, you can go as well as not. You know uncle Oliver likes nuts in winter. They remind him of old times. You'd better carry them up stairs and dry them, and then give him a pleasant surprise."

"So I will!"

Hatty peeped into the oven to see how the potatoes were coming on, singing a line of her favorite hymn:—

Just as the tea was drawn (uncle Oliver was as set in his way as an old smoker, and declared that he couldn't live without tea with every meal), the old man made his appearance. He was bent a good deal with rheumatism; his face was wrinkled, and his hair grew low down on his forehead. His shaggy eyebrows nearly met over his nose, and his deep grey eyes looked cold to a stranger, but, notwithstanding all this, his nieces loved him. Years ago when his only sister, who was their mother, died, he promised her, that as well as he knew how, he would be a father to her daughters; and faithfully had he kept his word.

He had only a little money; but that little was freely given for their necessities. When they first came to live with him, people called him hard and crusty, an odd stick; but Esther and Hatty had crept into his heart and made it soft and tender.

For their mother's sake he had allowed Hatty to attend church and Sabbath school; and in this way a blessing had come home to all of them. Hatty was not only eyes to her deformed sister, and described to her the beauties of nature which she seldom saw herself, but she was ears to both of them. Every word she could remember of the Sunday teachings was stored to be repeated at home; and thus both the old man and his deformed niece had learned to love the sacred truths of the Bible. Indeed a blessed peace had settled on the whole household, a peace and contentment at which many of their neighbors wondered.

When Hatty heard her uncle's step, she ran to the door to welcome him. If he had been the handsomest man in America, she couldn't have looked more lovingly in his face. She playfully took off his hat, hung it on its hook, and then seated him at the table.

"Come, Esther," she exclaimed, "dinner's ready; and here's your chair."

It was no wonder uncle Oliver smiled as he watched her flitting about, first to