done so much, and I have not done nearly so much, though I work quicker than any one of you, and I have worked as hard as I possibly could?—What is the reason that you have done so much more than I have?"

"Because we have all been helping one another, and you have had no one to help you: you have been obliged to do every thing for yourself."

"But still, I do not understand how your helping one another can make such a difference," said Owen: "I plait faster than any of you."

His companions were so busy at their work, that they did not listen to what he was saying—He stood behind Marianne, in a melancholy posture, looking at them, and trying to find out why they went on so much faster than he could—He observed that one picked the outside off the straws; another cut them to the proper length; another sorted them, and laid them in bundles; another flattened them; another (the youngest of the little girls, who was not able to do any thing else) held the straws ready for those who were plaiting; another cut off the rough ends of the straws when the plaits were finished; another ironed the plaits with a hot smoothing-iron; others sewed the plaits together. Each did what he could do best, and quickest; and none of them lost any time in going from one work to another, or in looking for what they wanted.

On the contrary, Owen had lost a great deal of time in looking for all the things that he wanted; he had nobody to hold the straws ready for him as he plaited; therefore he was forced to go for them himself, every time he wanted them; and his straws were not sorted in nice bundles for him; the wind blew them about; and he wasted half an hour, at least, in running after them. Besides this, he had no friend to cut off the rough ends for him; nor had he any one to sew the plaits together; and though he could plait quickly, he could not sew quickly; for he was not used to this kind of work. He wished extremely for Marianne to do it for him. He was once a full quarter of an hour in threading his needle, of which the eye was too small—Then he spent another quarter of an hour in looking for one with a larger eye; and he could not find it at last, and nobody would lend him another—When he had done sewing, he found that his hand was out for plaiting; that is, he could not plait so quickly after his fingers had just been used to another kind of work; and when he had been smoothing the straws with a heavy iron, his hand trembled afterwards for some minutes, during which time he was forced to be idle; thus it was that he lost time by doing every thing for himself; and though he lost but few minutes or seconds in each particular, yet, when all these minutes and seconds were added together, they made a great difference.

"How fast, how very fast, they go on! and how merrily!" said Owen; as he looked at his former companions—"I am sure I shall never earn sixpence for myself before Thursday; and I shall not be able to go to the cherry-orchard—I am very sorry that I trampled on your cherries; I am very sorry that I was so ill-humoured—I will never be cross any more."

"He is very sorry, that he was so ill-humoured; he is very sorry that he trampled on our cherries," cried Marianne; "do you hear what he says; he will never be cross any more."

"Yes, we hear what he says," answered Cymon; "but how can we be sure that he will do as he says."

"Oh," cried another of his companions, "he has found out at last that he must do as he would be done by."

"Aye," said another; "and he finds that we who are good-humoured and good-natured to one another, do better even than he who is so quick and so clever."

"But if, besides being so quick and so clever, he was good-humoured and good-natured," said Marianne, "he would be of great use to us; he plaits a vast deal faster than Mary does, and Mary plaits faster than any of us—Come, let us try him, let him come in amongst us."

"No, No, No," cried many voices; "he will quarrel with us; and we have no time for quarrelling—We are all so quiet and happy without him!—Let him work by himself, as he said he would."

Owen went on, working by himself; he made all the haste that he possibly could; but Thursday came, and his work was not nearly finished—His companions passed by him with their finished work in their hands—Each, as they passed, said, "What, have not you done yet, Owen?" and then they walked on to the table where their Dame was sitting ready to pay them their sixpences.

She measured their work, and examined it; and when she saw that it was well done, she gave to each of her little workmen and workwomen the sixpence which they had earned, and she said, "I hope, my dears, that you will be happy this evening."

They all looked joyful; and as they held their sixpences in their hands they said, "If we had not helped one another, we should not have earned this money; and we should not be able to go to the cherry-orchard."

"Poor Owen!" whispered Marianne to her companions, "look how melancholy he is, sitting there alone at his work!—See! his hands tremble, so that he can scarcely hold the straws; he will not have nearly finished his work in time, he cannot go with us."

"He should not have trampled upon our cherries; and then perhaps we might have helped him," said Cymon.

"Let us help him, though he did trample on our cherries," said the good-natured Marianne,—"He is sorry for what he did, and he will never be so ill-humoured or ill-natured again—Come, let us go and help him—If we all help, we shall have his work finished in time, and then we shall all be happy together."

As Marianne spoke, she drew Cymon near to the corner where Owen was sitting; and all her companions followed.

"Before we offer to help him, let us try whether he is now inclined to be good-humoured, and good-natured."

"Yes, yes, let us try that first," said his companions.

"Owen, you will not have done time enough to go with us,"—said Cymon.

"No, indeed," said Owen, "I shall not; therefore I may as well give up all thoughts of it—It is my own fault, I know."

"Well, but as you cannot go yourself, you will not want your pretty little basket; will you lend it to us to hold our cherries?"

"Yes, I will with pleasure," cried Owen, jumping up to fetch it:

"Now he is good-natured, I am sure," said Marianne.

"This plaiting of yours is not nearly so well done as ours," said Cymon, "look how uneven it is."

"Yes, it is rather uneven, indeed," replied Owen.

Cymon began to untwist some of Owen's work; and Owen bore this trial of his patience with good temper.

"Oh, you are pulling it all to pieces, Cymon," said Marianne; "this is not fair."

"Yes, it is fair," said Cymon; "for I have undone only an inch; and I will do as many inches for Owen as he pleases, now that I see he is good-humoured."

Marianne immediately sat down to work for Owen; and Cymon and all his companions followed her example—It