"And Miss Ellen, I am busy just now and cannot go with you to your room, but your sister will untie your clothes, I dare say, if you ask her kindly, and I will come by-and-by, and see that they are nicely folded and put away."
"I always fold my clothes myself," was the somewhat ungracious reply to the good woman's well-meant offer.
As the sisters entered their room Ellen shot the bolt of her door, exclaiming, "There, we are safe from that teasing Mrs. Merrill!"
"Oh, Ellen! she is very kind, and we must not forget, my dear sister, that there are not many in the world now, who take interest enough in us to care what we do." Ellen was softened and went tearfully to bed. Mary soon followed her, and they were just comfortably arranged when some one tried to enter, and finding the door bolted, tapped.
"Who is that?" exclaimed Ellen impatiently.
"It is only I, Miss Ellen," answered Mrs. Merrill, "I have come to put the light out and cover you up nicely."
"The light is out and we are covered," was the peevish reply which arose above Mary's "Thank you, Mrs. Merrill, we are in bed already."
"Oh, Ellen! how could you speak so angrily, and hurt the kind old woman's feelings." Ellen could not bear to hurt anybody's feelings, and the next moment she was out of bed, had unbolted the door, and was running barefooted through the hall, calling to Mrs. Merrill. Mrs. Merrill was half way down stairs, but she came back, hurried and alarmed, exclaiming breathlessly, "What is the matter, my dear, what is the matter?"
"Nothing, ma'am," said Ellen very respectfully and penitently, "except that Mary said that I had hurt your feelings, and I am very sorry for it. I only meant to say we were in bed already."
"Hurt my feelings—oh dear, no! poor child! and did she make you get up for that," putting her hand kindly on Ellen's head as she spoke—"oh no! you did not hurt my feelings—I never mind what children say."