"'Yes,' said Miss Hart quietly; 'but should we not be very sure that we see clearly what is our duty, and what our pleasure?'
"I took no notice of this, but turned to Bertie, with,—
"'You said a little while ago, Bertie, that you were so sorry for these poor people. If we really care for others, and want to help them, we must sometimes give up our own comfort and convenience.'
"'You don't care for me, or want to help me a bit,' said Bertie passionately; 'and I am going to write and ask mother if I can't come to her, even if I do have to sail off in a ship all alone by myself;' and then she broke out in tears and sobs.
"'You know that is not true, and you are wrong and selfish, Bertie,' I said. 'I must go now, but be a good girl and stop crying, and I will talk to you about mother, and tell you a nice story when I come home;' and, giving her a hasty kiss, I ran down the steps and joined the group who were about starting for the church.
"'Are you not going with us, Miss Hart?' said the teacher who was to accompany us.
"'I think not,' she answered.
"'You had better come,' I said, not wishing she should think me unamiable; 'you have no idea how interesting these classes are, and how much one may learn."
"'Another afternoon,' she said, with a pleasant smile; 'to-day I will remain at home.'
"We started on our way, but I was very uneasy. The words, 'You do not care for me, or want to help me,' mingling with 'Do not let my baby want for any care or tenderness you can give her,' kept ringing in my ears; and my mother's eyes—how like Bertie's were to them!—seemed looking into mine, as she pleaded for her little pet lamb. I came on slowly after the others, trying to make up my mind that it was not my duty to go back and stay with Bertie. Once I turned and looked behind, to see Mary Hart in the seat I had left, Bertie upon her lap, the child's arms about her neck, while she tenderly smoothed her lovely hair. A stranger was giving to my sister the petting and soothing for which she had longed, and which I had denied to her.