“Now, Hatty, I hope you are not going to be tiresome;” and Bessie’s voice was a little weary; and then she relented, and said gently, “You know I never forget you, Hatty dear.”
“No, of course not,” returned the other eagerly. “I did not mean to be cross. Put your head down beside me on the pillow, Bessie darling, for I know you are just as tired as possible. You don’t mind stopping with me for a few minutes, do you? for I have not spoken to you for three weeks.”
“No, I am not so tired as all that, and I am quite comfortable,” as a thin, soft cheek laid itself against her’s in the darkness. “What has gone wrong, Hatty dear? for I know by your tone you have been making yourself miserable about something. You have wanted me back to scold you into cheerfulness.”
“I have wanted you dreadfully,” sighed Hatty. “Mother and Christine have been very kind, but they don’t help me as you do, and Tom teases me dreadfully. What do you think he said yesterday to mother? I was in the room and heard him myself. He actually said, ‘I wonder my father allows you all to spoil Hatty as you do. You all give in to her, however cross and unreasonable she is, and so her temper gets worse every day.’”
“Well, you are very often cross, you know,” returned Bessie truthfully.
“Yes, but I try not to be,” replied Hatty, with a little sob. “Tom would have been cross too if his head and back had ached as mine were aching, but he always feels well and strong. I think it is cruel of him to say such things to mother, when he knows how much I have to suffer.”
“Tom did not mean to be unkind, Hatty; you are always finding fault with the poor boy. It is difficult for a young man, who does not know what an ache means, nor what it is to wake up tired, to realize what real suffering all your little ailments cause you. Tom is really very kind and good-natured, only your sharp little speeches irritate him.”
“I am always irritating some one,” moaned Hatty. “I can’t think how any of you can love me. I often cry myself to sleep, to think how horrid and disagreeable I have been in the day. I make good resolutions then, but the next morning I am as bad as ever, and then I think it is no use trying any more. Last night Tom made me so unhappy that I could not say my prayers.”
“Poor little Hatty!”
“Yes, I know you are sorry for me; you are such a dear that I cannot be as cross with you as I am with Tom; but, Bessie, I wish you would comfort me a little; if you would only tell me that I am not so much to blame.”