"And now, Ellen," said Mrs. Herbert, when the work had all been so explained that there were no more questions to ask about it, "I want you to tell me something about Mary—is she like you?"
"Mary like me!" exclaimed Ellen; "oh no, Aunt Herbert, Mary is more like you than she is like me."
"Indeed! does she look like me?"
"Well, I do not mean exactly that she looks like you, but she looks pleased like you, and moves about quietly, and never seems to be out of patience: everybody loves Mary."
There was something in the tone in which these last words were said that made Mrs. Herbert raise her eyes from her work and look at her niece. Ellen caught the glance, colored, and hung her head.
"And everybody loves Ellen too, I hope," said Mrs. Herbert, with a smile.
Ellen's head drooped yet lower, and she did not answer.
"Speak, my love; you were not jealous I hope of the love which was given to Mary?"
"Oh no, Aunt Herbert, I was not jealous of Mary; that is, I did not want people not to love Mary, but I did wish that they would love me too, and not to be so cross to me."
"Poor child," said Mrs. Herbert, feelingly, "was every one cross to you?"