Friend and foe

by A. L. O. E.

Must she not so much as take a reel of cotton that was not her own—nor touch that plateful of sweet cakes which had hitherto offered an unresisted temptation? Must she act at every moment of her life with the sense that God's eye was upon her? Did real faith require all this?

But what weighed most of all on poor Norah was the idea of Sophy Puller and her stolen meals at the house. Norah was a lively young girl, exceedingly fond of mirth, and though she loved her good old mistress, the idea of having no society more gay than that of the invalid lady seemed to Norah as dreary as that of a life in prison. Sophy's gossip, Sophy's books, Sophy's friendship, had been the great delight of an existence which, without them, so Norah believed, she would find insupportably dull.

"It will be dreadfully difficult to know what to say to Sophy," was Norah's reflection, as when going at noon to make some little purchase for her lady, she turned the subject over in her mind for at least the twentieth time. "She has not talked with my uncle, and I shall never be able to make her understand what he thinks, she will consider it all so absurd! I almost hope that dear Sophy will not come to see me to-day, above all that she may not come at tea-time! I could hardly bear to let her see that I think it wrong to entertain her at my lady's expense! She would laugh at my scruples—or else she would be so hurt and angry! Oh! It would grieve me to vex or offend her. To lose Sophy for a friend would be a dreadful trial indeed! It would be more than I could endure!"

As Norah pursued her way, with her brow knit with anxious thought, as if the cares of a nation were upon her, she chanced to pass a haberdasher's shop which had always for her great attraction, as one of her besetting weaknesses was a love of dress, which weakness had been greatly fostered by her intercourse with Sophy. Instinctively Norah paused before the large plate-glass window, and looked at the tempting array of fashionable dresses set out with prices affixed.

"What—that black silk robe with flounces and jacket complete for only two guineas! If ever I saw such a bargain!" exclaimed Norah, whose great ambition was to possess such a Sunday dress, as Sophy had told her that black silk was the most genteel thing in the world, and made a girl look just like a real lady at once! "But two whole guineas!" reflected Norah. "Whenever shall I get that to spend on a gown, when I can hardly afford even this coloured print that I wear!"

A carriage drew up at the door, and an elegantly-dressed lady descended and entered the shop.

"There goes one who can spend guineas upon guineas, and buy everything pretty and new, without any trouble, and without feeling that she is doing anything wrong. How happy she must be in that lovely bonnet and feathers, and satin mantle trimmed with such beautiful lace!"

So thought the poor silly child, who had little idea of any troubles of a different kind from her own.

"I'm sure," and Norah breathed a sigh of discontent, "I'm sure that the poor have much harder trials to bear than the rich, they need much more self-denial, their cross is much harder to bear!"

Norah turned away from the shop with a feeling of bitter envy, to which covetousness had given rise. Against such strokes of the enemy, her newly-tried breastplate was not proof.