From her chamber window she saw Hatty and Sallie walk on, arm in arm, swinging their baskets; and conscience whispered,—"They will talk of you, and you have no one but yourself to blame for all your wretchedness."

Disgusted with herself, she still sat gazing from the window, when serious thoughts began to arise.

"Why can't I be happy?" she asked herself. "I have a better home than either of those girls. That is, the rooms look better, and father has more money. But things never go right. Mother always wants errands done so quick; and father gets angry and cross; and the boys are so touchy,"—

"And Matilda, the eldest daughter is worse than all the rest; for she might be a help to her mother, a comfort to her father, and an example of love and peace to the whole family."

This was what conscience said; and conscience this time was determined to be heard.

"You hate yourself now," the inward monitor went on, "but not so badly as you will by and by. Every day that you indulge in these evil passions, you will grow worse and worse. Try to reform. Begin to-day, and take this verse for your motto: 'If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.'"

"That is Hatty's rule," exclaimed Matilda, starting from her seat. "I'll try it. I'm sorry now, I told Sallie that Cynthia didn't like her dress. I'm afraid there'll be a fuss about that. Sallie wont speak; and her cousin will find out what I said, and then the blame will all come on me."

"Where it belongs," urged conscience again.

"Well, I'll never tell tales again; that is, if I can help it. I mean to try and be like Hatty. Father and mother will wonder what has come over me; I wish I knew what I ought to do first."

Already she felt happier than for a long time. She ran down to the sink, bathed her face and eyes; then back to her room and combed her hair, confining it in her net, after which she joined her mother in the sitting-room.

"Where's that little apron," she began, "that you cut out yesterday? I'm going to make it."

Mrs. Manning glanced up from her work in surprise. "What has happened?" she asked herself; but she smilingly directed her daughter where she might find the apron.

Before her needle was threaded, baby Tom fell from the steps and began to scream with all his might.

Mrs. Manning started up, letting her sewing fall to the floor. "I sha'n't sew a stitch at this rate," began Matilda impatiently; but recovering herself, she exclaimed,—

"Come here, Tommy. I'll show you the bossy;" and they trotted off together to the barn.

The other boys were there playing in the hay, and at any other time Matilda would have begun to quarrel directly; but with her good resolves fresh in mind she began to coax them to come off the hay, and show her how to make bossy stand on his feet.

Her tone was so pleasant that they came at once, wondering at the change; and for the next half hour they had a merry time together.

Then she returned to the house with the baby mounted on her back.

When her father came home to supper, he evidently expected to find her cross and impatient at having been kept from accompanying her companions to the grove. He heard her singing before he reached the gate, and was not a little delighted to find his wife sitting at her sewing, and Matilda putting the last dishes on the table for tea.

"Well, now, this is as it ought to be," he said heartily, as they drew their chairs about the table. "Wife, you said you wanted a new gown, and here's money to buy cloth for you and Matilda, too. I'm always ready with the cash for good daughters."

A few hours later, when the young girl retired to her bed, she said to herself,—"It isn't so very hard to do right after all. How pleased father was. Now if I only knew that Sallie wouldn't say anything about what I told her, I should be happier than I have been for a month."

I wish Hatty had been there to remind her that she ought to thank her heavenly Father for help to keep her resolutions, else she could not have done one right thing. As it was, Hatty was giving uncle Oliver and Esther an account of her call at Mrs. Munson's; and they were thinking,—"What a blessing our dear girl is to us, and how lonely our cottage would be without her."

The nuts, a peck of each, were safely stored in the attic to dry, before the old man came home to supper; and then Hatty had time to run to a neighbor's with the vest Esther had just completed.

In the evening they had family-prayers, a service the two girls commenced by themselves, but which uncle Oliver soon joined; and then after Hatty's account of her afternoon, they retired to rest for the night, the blessing which God has promised the peace-makers resting upon them.