MMRS. STANTON would have come sooner, but her visitors were just leaving when Maggie came in, and she did not quite understand at first how it was. Miss Ellery, a young lady who had been standing by, rushed into Mrs. Stanton's room after she carried Bessie in, and told her how the little girl had been treated. Mrs. Stanton was very much displeased, but just now she could think of nothing but the child's distress. She shook all over, and the sobs and tears came faster and faster till grandmamma was afraid she would be ill. She soothed and comforted and petted in vain. Bessie still cried as if her heart would break. All she could say was, "Oh, mamma, mamma! I want my own mamma!"

At last Mrs. Stanton said kindly but firmly, "Bessie, my child, you must be quiet. You will surely be sick. Grandmamma is very sorry for you, but your head cannot hurt you so very much now."

"Oh, no!" sobbed the little girl, clinging about her grandmother's neck, "it isn't that, grandmamma; I don't care much if she did pull my hair; but oh, I was so wicked! I was in a passion again, and I was so bad! I struck that man, I know I did. Jesus will be sorry, and he will be angry with me too. He will think that I don't want to be his little child any more, 'cause I was so very, very naughty. Oh! what shall I do?"

"Tell Jesus that you are sorry, and ask him to forgive you, Bessie," said grandmamma, gently.

"Oh! I am 'fraid he can't," sobbed Bessie; "he must be so very angry. I didn't think about him, and I didn't try one bit, grandmamma. I just thought about what Miss Adams and that man did to me, and I was in such a dreadful passion; I never was so bad before. Oh, I wish I could tell my own mamma about it!"

All this was said with many sobs and tears and catchings of her breath, and grandmamma wished that Miss Adams could see the distress she had caused.

"Bessie," she said, "why did Jesus come down from heaven and die on the cross?"

"So our Father in heaven could forgive us," answered the child more quietly.

"And do you not think that his precious blood is enough to wash away our great sins as well as those which we may think are smaller?"

"Yes, grandmamma."

"Now, no sin is small in the eyes of a just and holy God, Bessie; but when he made such a great sacrifice for us, it was that he might be able to forgive every one of our sins against him, if we are truly sorry for them. And he will surely do so, my darling, and help and love us still, if we ask him for the sake of that dear Son."

"And will he listen to me now, grandmamma, just when I was so very naughty?"

"Yes, he is always ready to hear us. No matter how much we have grieved him, he will not turn away when we call upon him."

Bessie was silent for some minutes with her face hidden on her grandmother's neck, and her sobs became less violent. At last she whispered, "Grandmamma, do you think Jesus can love me just as much as he did before?"

"Just as much, my precious one," said grandmamma, drawing her arms close about Bessie, and pressing her lips on the little curly head. Then Bessie raised her face and turned around in her grandmamma's lap. A very pale little face it was, and very weak and tired she looked; but she lay quite quiet now except for a long sob which still came now and then. Maggie wondered why grandmamma bit her lip, and why her eyebrows drew together in a frown, as if she were angry. She could not be displeased with Bessie now, she thought.

Presently grandmamma began to sing in a low voice,—

When she had sung one verse, Maggie joined in, and Bessie lay listening. When they were through, Mrs. Stanton put Bessie down in a corner of the lounge, and said the children must have some lunch. First she rang the bell, and then went to a little cupboard at the side of the fireplace and brought out two small white plates, which Maggie and Bessie knew quite well. Presently the waiter came to the door to know what Mrs. Stanton wanted. This was James, the head waiter. He knew Maggie and Bessie, and they were great favorites with him. His wife washed for some of the ladies in the hotel, and once when she came there with some clothes, she brought her little girl with her, and left her in the hall with her father, who was busy there. She was a very little girl, and could just walk alone, and while she was toddling about after her father, she fell down and knocked her head against the corner of a door. She cried very hard, and James tried to quiet her, lest she should disturb some of the boarders. But she had a great bump on her head, and she did not see any reason why she should be still when it hurt her so. She was still crying when Maggie and Bessie came through the hall. Each had a stick of candy, which some one had just given them. When they heard the little one crying, they stopped to ask what ailed her.

"I'll give her my candy," said Maggie.

"Yes, do," said Bessie, "and I'll give you half of mine."

The child stopped crying when she had the nice stick of candy. James was very much pleased, and after that he was always glad to wait upon our little girls. He had just now heard the story of Bessie's trouble, for Miss Ellery had taken pains to spread it through the house, so vexed was she at Miss Adams, and James had been by when she was telling some of the ladies. He felt very sorry for Bessie, and wished that he could do something for her. When he came to answer Mrs. Stanton's ring, she asked him to bring some bread and butter.

"Is it for the little ladies, ma'am?" asked James. Mrs. Stanton said, "Yes," and James asked if they would not like toast better. Two or three times when Maggie and Bessie had taken tea with their grandmamma, he had noticed that Bessie always asked for toast. Mrs. Stanton thanked him and said yes, for she thought perhaps Bessie would eat toast when she would not eat bread.

"But can I have it at this time of the day?" she said.

"No fear, ma'am," said James. "You shall have it, if I make it myself;" and with a nod to the children, he went away.

Bessie sat quiet in a corner of the sofa, still looking very grave.

"Don't you feel happy now, Bessie?" said Maggie, creeping close to her, and putting her arm around her. "I am sure Jesus will forgive you."

"Yes, I think he will," said Bessie; "but I can't help being sorry 'cause I was so naughty."

"You was not half so bad as Miss Adams, if you did get into a passion," said Maggie, "and I don't believe he'll forgive her."

"Oh, Maggie!" said Bessie.

"Well, I don't believe she'll ask him."

"Then I'll ask him," said Bessie.

"Now, Bessie, don't you do it!"

"But I ought to ask him, if I want him to forgive me," said Bessie. "When we say 'Our Father in heaven,' we say 'Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.' I think Miss Adams sinned against me a little bit; don't you, Maggie?"

"No, I don't," said Maggie. "No little bit about it. I think she sinned against you a great bit,—as much as the whole ocean."

"Then if I want Jesus to forgive me, I ought to forgive her, and to ask him to forgive her too. I think I ought. I'm going to ask mamma to-night."

"I sha'n't do it, I know," said Maggie. "I wish I was as tall as she is; no,—as tall as papa or Colonel Rush, and oh! wouldn't she get it then!"

"What would you do?" asked Bessie.

"I don't know,—something. Oh, yes! don't you know the pictures of Bluebeard's wives, where they're all hanging up by their hair? I'd just hang her up that way, and then her hair would be nicely pulled. And I'd get the boys to come and poke her with sticks." Maggie said this, shaking her head with a very determined look.

The idea of Miss Adams hanging up by her hair made Bessie laugh; but in a moment she looked grave again. "I don't believe that's yight, Maggie," she said.

"I don't care," said Maggie. "I'm going to say it."

Just then James came back, and they forgot Miss Adams for a while. He brought a nice plate of toast and some butter. Grandmamma spread two pieces of toast and laid them on the little plates, and then went back again to the famous cupboard and brought out—oh, delicious!—a box of guava jelly. She put a spoonful on each plate, and gave them to the children. "Now, remember," she said, "the jelly goes with the toast."

Bessie looked rather doubtfully at her toast. "Grandmamma, I don't feel very hungry."

"But you must eat something, Bessie; it is long after your luncheon time, and it will not do for you to go until dinner without eating. Mamma will think I did not take good care of you."

But the toast tasted so good with the guava jelly that Bessie eat the whole of hers and even asked for more, to grandma's great pleasure. When she brought it to her with some more jelly, she saw that Bessie had still some of the sweetmeats left on her plate. "Don't you like your jelly, dear?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," said Bessie, "but I didn't know if I could eat all the toast, and I thought perhaps you only wanted me to eat just so much share of the guava as I eat a share of the toast; so I eat that first to be sure."

Grandma smiled, but she did not praise her honest little granddaughter, for she did not think it best.

When Aunt Annie heard Miss Ellery tell how Bessie had been treated, she was very angry, and said some things about Miss Adams and Mr. Lovatt which her mother did not wish to have her say before the children. She told her so, speaking in French; so Annie said no more just then; but as soon as Bessie ceased crying, she ran out to tell Miss Adams what she thought of her conduct. But happily Miss Adams was not to be found, and before Annie saw her again, her mother had persuaded her that it was better to say nothing about it.

But now when she could not find Miss Adams, she went off to Mrs. Rush's room and told her and the colonel the whole story. The colonel was angry enough to please even Annie. He said so much, and grew so excited, that Mrs. Rush was sorry Annie had told him. He was far more displeased than he would have been with any insult to himself, and when, soon after, he met Mr. Lovatt in the hall, he spoke so severely and angrily to him that Mr. Lovatt was much offended. Very high words passed between the two gentlemen, and the quarrel might have become serious, if Mr. Howard had not interfered.

Miss Adams heard all this, and when she found how much trouble and confusion she had caused by her cruel thoughtlessness, she felt rather ashamed, and wished she had not tormented the little child who had never done her any harm. But this was not the last of it, for Miss Adams was to be punished a little by the last person who meant to do it.