"Did she?" cried Horace, eagerly; "where was she when she said it? What did grandma say? Did aunt Madge hear her?"
"Yes, aunt Madge heard her, and she said she always knew Horace would be a good boy if he would only think."
"Well, I do think," replied Horace, looking very much pleased; "I think about all the time."
"But then, Horace, you know how you've acted some days!"
"Well, I don't care. Aunt Madge says 'tisn't so easy for boys to be good."
Grace opened her round blue eyes in wonder.
"Why, Horace, I have to make my own bed, and sweep and dust my room, and take care of my drawers. Only think of that; and Prudy always round into things, you know! Then I have to sew, O, so much! I reckon you wouldn't find it very easy being a girl."
"Poh! don't I have to feed the chickens, and bring in the eggs, and go for the cows? And when we lived home——"
Here Horace broke down; he could not think of home without remembering his father.
Grace burst into tears. The word "home" had called up a beautiful picture of her father and mother sitting on the sofa in the library, Horace and Pincher lying on the floor, the door open from the balcony, and the moon filling the room with a soft light; her father had a smile on his face, and was holding her hand.