"Nothing to play at," answers Jennie, sulkily. "I'm tired of games; and, besides, games are silly."
"Then take your knitting, or hem one of the new dusters."
"Shan't; it's holiday time, and I don't mean to do any work. If Pollie wasn't so silly I could play with her all right—screaming and making all that fuss about nothing."
"Well, if you can't keep quiet, I shall have to put you to bed—now remember."
But to herself Betty thinks, "Now, what would be the right thing to do for them? Teach them better, I suppose; teach them to be kind and gentle, teach them to be unselfish, to think less of themselves and more of others."
The thought is still with her when she returns to her household duties. Suddenly a happy idea strikes her.
"Ah! I remember how Grannie told me that when she was a girl she used to invite a number of her little school-friends to her cottage on half-holidays; each girl brought a small piece of work with her, a tiny petticoat to sew, a sock to knit, or what not; and they would sew and chat away happily for hours, fancying themselves a real sewing society.
"The work was not for themselves—Oh, no! Twice every year all the little garments were collected and given to the poorer children of the village. Now, if these rough, headstrong sisters of mine would only do that! Is there nothing to make them follow dear Grannie's example?"
All the rest of that day Betty is thinking over her plan, and at night, ere she goes to rest, she lays the whole matter before the Lord in very earnest prayer. She is beginning to understand something at last of the real strength, and comfort, and light, which follows all heart-felt prayer.
Next morning she awakes with the determination strong within her of commencing that very day to win her little sisters to better things.