"But then," said Amy, "if a person is bad, do not you think it would be better to wait and see? We ought not to like a bad person, you said, one day."
"Not exactly that; I told you not to be intimate with Mary Watson, because she did many things I did not like, and knew a good many little girls, who could not teach her any good; but still, I think, if, for some reason, we were obliged to have Mary Watson here, you might love her just as much as I told you to love Lucy, for if you spoke the truth, she could not think you liked any of her naughty ways."
"Then why may I not know her now—could I not speak the truth?"
"Perhaps you might," said Mabel; "but I think, sometimes, that not to avoid temptation, is taking one step to evil; so I thought it best to avoid Mary Watson, as I could scarcely hope you would do her very much good, and she might do you harm."
"You always think of me, Mabel," said Amy; "when do you find time to think of yourself?"
"When I go to bed," she replied, "and then I ask myself if I have been as kind to my little orphan sister as I ought to be?"
"But, Mabel, dear, when you sit alone, sometimes, and look so very sad, and I come in, and see tears on your face, is that about me?"
"No; but it is not often so."
"Not often; but I am so vexed when it is. Why is it, Mabel dear?"