The baby was asleep in the cradle, and Mrs. Lethbridge was engaged in ironing. She dusted a chair, and offered it to her visitor, who begged her to continue her occupation.
"I have brought Molly home," Marian explained, as she sat down. "The children were teasing her. I fear they make her unhappy."
The mother glanced sadly at her little daughter, who had gone to the cradle, and was now imprinting a tender kiss on the baby's rosy cheek.
"It seems a pity you are bound to send her to school," Marian continued, "for she learns but little, I think you told me?"
"Almost nothing, miss; she knows her letters, and that's about all. But, of course, she must go to school. I should be glad enough to keep her at home to mind baby. I expect the children will leave off teasing her when they find she doesn't mind."
"I think she does mind, but she is evidently not resentful. You don't send her to Sunday-school, Mrs. Lethbridge, do you?"
"No, miss; I'm not bound to send her there, you see."
"I think it is a pity she should not go. But perhaps you teach her on Sundays at home?"
The mother shook her head, and looked a trifle ashamed as she said, hastily—
"I've no time to spare, and it's so difficult to make her understand, and she asks such questions! Of course, I make her say her prayers every night."