T"THERE comes mamma with Mamie Stone," said Maggie, as they were going back to the hotel with Colonel and Mrs. Rush.

When Mamie saw the little girls, she ran to meet them, saying she was going home to spend the morning with them; and Mrs. Bradford took them all back with her. While Maggie and Bessie said their lessons, Mamie amused herself with Franky and Nellie and the baby; and she was delighted when nurse made her sit down on the floor, and putting the baby in her lap, let her hold her for a few minutes. Afterwards they all had a good play together, a doll's tea-party, and a fine swing.

Mamie stayed to dinner, and was very good all day; and very soon after dinner, Mr. Stone came to take his daughter home. He was a grave, serious man, and it was rather unusual to see him with such a bright smile, and looking so happy. He said a few words in a low tone to Mrs. Bradford and Mrs. Duncan, and they seemed pleased too, and shook hands with him.

"Yes," he said, in answer to something Mrs. Bradford said to him, "I am glad of it; it is the best thing in the world for Mamie."

"What is it, papa?" said Mamie, springing forward; "have you got something for me?"

"Yes," he answered. "Will you come home and see it?"

"What is it,—a new toy?"

"The very prettiest plaything you ever had in your life," he answered, with a smile.

Mamie clapped her hands. "Can Maggie and Bessie come too?" she asked, turning to Mrs. Bradford.

"Not to-day," said Mrs. Bradford, "but they shall come soon."

Mamie went away with her father, while Maggie and Bessie stood and watched her as she went skipping along by his side, looking very happy and eager.

But when an hour or two later they went down on the beach and found Mamie, she seemed anything but happy. Indeed, she looked as if nothing pleasant had ever happened to her in her life. She was sitting on a stone, the marks of tears all over her cheeks and now and then giving a loud, hard sob. It was more than sulkiness or ill-humor; any one who looked at the child could see that she was really unhappy. Martha, her nurse, was sitting a little way off knitting, and not taking the least notice of her.

Maggie and Bessie ran up to her. "What is the matter, Mamie?" asked Maggie.

"My nose is broken," sobbed Mamie, "and my father and mother don't love me any more."

"Oh," exclaimed Maggie, paying attention only to the first part of Mamie's speech, "how did it get broken?"

"Baby did it."

"What baby? Not ours?"

"No, an ugly, hateful little baby that's in my mother's room."

"How did it do it?"

"I don't know; but Martha says it did, and she says that's the reason my papa and mamma don't love me any more."

"Don't they love you?" asked Bessie.

"No, they don't," said Mamie, passionately. "Mamma tried to push me away, and papa scolded me and took me out of the room. He never scolded me before, and he was so angry, and it's all for that hateful little baby. Oh, dear, oh, dear! what shall I do?"

"Wasn't you naughty?" asked Maggie.

"I sha'n't tell you," said Mamie.

"Then I know you was. If you hadn't been, you'd say, 'No!'"

Mamie did not answer. Bessie walked round her, looking at her nose, first on one side, then on the other.

"I don't see where it's broken," she said. "It looks very good. Will it blow now?"

"I don't know," said Mamie. "I'm afraid to try. Oh, dear!"

"Does it hurt?" asked Bessie.

"No, not much; but I expect it's going to."

"Maybe we can feel where it's broken," said Maggie. "Let's squeeze it a little."

"I wont let you," said Mamie. "But I'll let Bessie, 'cause she's so softly."

Bessie squeezed the nose, first very gently, then a little harder, but it seemed all right, and felt just as a nose ought to feel. Then Mamie let Maggie squeeze; but she pinched harder than Bessie had done, and hurt it a little.

"Oh, you hurt! Go away!" said Mamie, and set up an angry cry.

Martha, who had been talking to Jane, rose at this. "Come, now," she said, "just have done with this. I wont have any more crying, you bad child."

"Go away!" screamed Mamie, as Martha came near; "you're bad yourself. Oh, I want my mamma!"

"Your mamma don't want you then, little broken nose. Have done with that crying."

"I'll tell mamma of you," said Mamie.

"Oh, you needn't be running with your tales now. Your mamma has got some one else to attend to."

"That's a shame, Martha," said Jane. "She's just teasing you, Miss Mamie; your mamma does care for you."

"Martha," said Bessie, "I'm glad you're not my nurse; I wouldn't love you if you were."

"There's no living with her. She'll be cured of her spoiled ways now," said Martha, as she tried to drag the struggling, screaming child away. But Mamie would not stir a step. She was in a great rage, and fought and kicked and struck Martha; but just then Mrs. Bradford was seen coming towards them.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"She's just going on this way because of the baby, ma'am," said Martha.

"Mamie," said Mrs. Bradford, "you don't look like the happy little girl who left us a short time ago."

Mamie stopped screaming, and held out one hand to Mrs. Bradford, but Martha kept fast hold of the other, and tried to make her come away.

"Let her come to me, Martha," said the lady; "I want to speak to her."

Martha looked sulky, but she let go of Mamie, and walked away muttering. Mrs. Bradford sat down on the rock and took Mamie on her lap.

"Now, Mamie, what is the matter?" she asked, kindly. "I thought I should find you so pleasant and happy."

"My nose is broken," sobbed Mamie, "and oh, dear! my papa and mamma don't love me any more. I would not care if my nose was broken, if they only loved me."

"They do love you just as much as they ever did," said Mrs. Bradford, "and your nose is not broken. How should it come to be broken?"

"There's an ugly baby in mamma's room," said Mamie. "The bad little thing did it."

"Oh, nonsense!" said Mrs. Bradford, "how could such a little thing break your nose? Even if it were to give you a blow, which I am sure it did not, that tiny fist could not hurt you much."

"Martha said it did," said Mamie.

"Then Martha told you what was not true. That is a very foolish, wicked way which some people have of telling a little child that its nose is broken, when a baby brother or sister comes to share its parents' love. And it is quite as untrue to say that your father and mother do not love you any longer. They love you just as much as they ever did, and will love you more if you are kind to the baby, and set it a good example."

"But I don't want it to be mamma's," said Mamie. "I'm her baby, and I don't want her to have another."

"But you are six years old," said Mrs. Bradford. "You surely do not want to be called a baby now! Why, Franky would be quite offended if any one called him a baby. This morning, when you were playing with my little Annie, you said you did wish you had a baby at home, to play with all the time; and now, when God has sent you the very thing you wanted, you are making yourself miserable about it."

"But it isn't a nice, pretty baby like yours," said Mamie. "It don't play and crow like little Annie, and it don't love me either. It made a face and rolled up its fist at me."

"Poor little thing!" said Mrs. Bradford, "it did not know any better. Such very small babies do not know how to play. For some time this little sister must be watched and nursed very carefully by its mother, for it is weak and helpless; but when it is a little older, though it must be cared for still, it will begin to hold up its head and take notice, and play and crow, as Annie does. Then she will know you, and be pleased when you come, if you are kind to her. By and by you may help to teach her to walk and talk. Think what a pleasure that will be! The first words Franky spoke were taught to him by Maggie, and the first one of all was 'Mag.'"

Mamie stopped crying, and sat leaning her head against Mrs. Bradford as she listened.

"But I know my father and mother don't love me so much now," she said. "Mamma did try to push me away, and papa scolded me so, and he never did it before."

"Then I am sure you deserved it. I am afraid you must have been very naughty. Now tell me all about it," said Mrs. Bradford, smoothing back Mamie's disordered hair, and wiping her heated, tear-stained face with her own soft, cool handkerchief. "Perhaps we can cure some of your troubles by talking a little about them. When your father came for you this afternoon, it seemed to me that half his own pleasure came from the thought that the baby was to bring so much happiness to you. That did not look as if he did not love you; did it?"

"No, but he was angry with me."

"Tell me what happened after you went home with him?"

Mamie put her finger in her mouth and hung her head, but after a moment she looked up and said,—

"He took me into mamma's room, and there was a woman there I did not know, and that baby was in the bed with mamma."

"And what then?"

"Mamma told me to come and see my darling little sister, and I cried and said I would not have her for my sister, and she should not stay there. And papa said I was naughty, and that woman said she would not have such a noise there, and I must go away if I was not quiet, and that made me madder. I wasn't going to be sent out of my own mamma's room for that baby. If she was its nurse, she could take it away. It hadn't any business there, and then—then—"

Mamie was beginning to feel ashamed, and to see that the most of her trouble came from her own naughtiness.

"Well, dear," said Mrs. Bradford, gently, "and then?"

"And then I tried to pull the baby away, and I tried to slap the bad little thing."

"Oh, Mamie!" exclaimed Maggie and Bessie.

"That was the reason your papa was angry, was it not?" asked Mrs. Bradford.

"Yes, ma'am. Mamma pushed me away, and papa carried me out of the room, and oh, he did scold me so! He called Martha, and told her to take me away. Then she said my nose was broken, and papa and mamma would not love me any more, because the baby had come. Oh! I would be good, if they would let me go back to mamma, and she would love me."

"She does love you just as much as ever. You see, my child, you frightened and disturbed her when you tried to hurt that tender little baby. She cares for you just as much as she did before, and I am sure she is grieving now because you were naughty, and had to be sent away from her. And your papa, too, when you see him, only tell him you mean to be a good child, and kind to the baby, and you will find you are still his own little Mamie, whom he loves so dearly, and for whose comfort and pleasure he is always caring. I am sorry Martha has told you such cruel, wicked stories. There is not a word of truth in them, and you must always trust your father and mother. I am sure your dear little sister will be as great a delight to you as Annie is to Maggie and Bessie, and that you will learn to love her dearly; but you must be kind and loving yourself, dear, not selfish and jealous, if you should have to give up a little to baby. It was jealousy which made you so unhappy. Jealousy is a wicked, hateful feeling, one which is very displeasing in the sight of God, and which makes the person who gives way to it very miserable."

"It was Martha who made her jealous," said Maggie. "Martha is a very bad nurse; she is not fit to have the care of a child. Nurse said so, and that she told wicked stories; so she does, for I have heard her myself she is very deceptious."

"Well," said her mother, "I hope Mamie will be too wise to mind what Martha says after this."

"I will try to be good," said Mamie, "and I do love you, Mrs. Bradford. Do you think, when the baby is older, I can hold her on my lap like I did Annie?"

"I have not a doubt of it. I cannot tell you in how many ways she will be a pleasure to you, if you teach her to be fond of you, and she will be, as your father said, the very prettiest plaything you have ever had. There comes your papa now;" and Mamie, looking up, saw her father coming towards them.

Mr. Stone looked grave and troubled, and turned his eyes anxiously towards Mamie as he spoke to Mrs. Bradford.

"Here is a little girl who thinks she has not behaved well, and wishes to tell you so," said Mrs. Bradford.

Mr. Stone held out his arms to Mamie, and in another moment she was clinging round his neck, with her face against his.

"Oh, I will be good! Will you please love me again?"

"Love you? and who ever thought of not loving you?" said Mr. Stone. "Poor little woman, you did not think your father would ever cease to love his own Mamie? Not if a dozen daughters came. No, indeed, my pet; and now do you not want to go and see your poor mamma again, and be a good, quiet girl? She is feeling very badly about you."

So Mamie went off with her father, feeling quite satisfied that her nose was as good as ever, and that her father and mother loved her just as much as they had done before the baby came to claim a share of their hearts.