This was a secret she had learned from her mother. And it is a very precious secret, which very few persons understand. Lillia did not understand it; for she always looked after her own pleasure alone. Yet there was not a more unhappy child in that village than Lillia. But Minnie had found out that to make others happy was to be happy herself. You may feel sure, therefore, that this first trial of her swing was much more delightful to her than Lillia's was to her. Her three friends were highly gratified, and when they had all had a good swing, they exclaimed,—
"Now, Minnie, you must get in, and we will swing you."
Then Minnie jumped into the seat of the swing. Fanny and Jeannie stood in front of her, to push the swing back-wards, and Rhoda stood behind on the opposite side, to push her forwards. A right merry time she had, until it was necessary for them to part.
"You will come again soon, girls, won't you?" said she to her happy little friends.
"Yes, good Minnie, we will. You are so kind, you may be sure we will come again."
Then they all kissed her, and wished her good evening.
"Good evening, girls," she replied; and then she sprang, agile as a fawn and fresh as a fairy, into the house.
Minnie was not one of those children who have two sides to their character. Some boys and girls are like the statue of a noble personage, which was brass on one side and iron on the other. When from home, they appear mild, gentle, obliging; but when with their parents, they are fretful, peevish, and disobedient. Minnie was the same gentle, obedient little being at home as she was abroad. But even there she had her little trials.
She was very fond of reading. No little girl read a good story with a greater relish than Minnie. And, like all other children, she did not love to be disturbed in the midst of an interesting book. But she had found that this disposition needed to be brought under control, or it would lead her astray.