"Don't cry, Maggie," said Harry. "I did not mean to hurt you, but I do not know what to make of you."
"What's all this wonderful fuss about money, Bessie?" asked Fred.
"Ask me no lies, and I'll tell you no questions," said Bessie, holding up her head and looking at her brothers with a grave, reproving air, "You talk very unproperly to my Maggie."
At this, the boys shouted and laughed so loud and so long that Bessie felt as badly as her sister, and saying, "Let's go away, Maggie," they ran off.
When Mr. Bradford came out of his room, he saw his little girls sitting at the head of the stairs looking very unhappy. Maggie had been crying; Bessie had her arm around her waist, as though she were trying to comfort her, but looked as if she wanted comfort herself.
"Why, what ails my singing birdies this morning?" asked papa. "In trouble so early in the day?"
"Papa," said Bessie, in a grieved little voice, "we are having very misable times to-day."
"That is bad," said Mr. Bradford, sitting down on the stairs beside them; "but tell papa what it is, and see if he cannot help you into pleasanter times."