Mrs. Wilmot was with me three weeks, and then returned home to prepare for receiving her children again. It was from a letter of hers that I learned what I am now going to tell you.

Clara returned wearing the locket. Did you ever read a fairy tale in which a young prince is said to have been presented with a ring that pricked his finger whenever he was in danger of doing wrong? Clara's locket was to her what this ring was to the young prince. Whenever she was about to spend money either on her own fancies or the fancies of others, it would remind her that till her debt was paid, the money in her purse was not hers, and that to be truly generous, she must first be just. A month passed, and she took to Mrs. Wilmot nearly two dollars, which was all that remained of her pocket-money after paying Cecille. Mrs. Wilmot praised her for the effort she had made to do rightly, and Clara was almost happy. Another month went by.

Cecille came to give her morning lesson, and immediately after it, Clara and Grace appeared at the door of the room in which Mrs. Wilmot was seated.

"Come in, my children," she said very pleasantly, for she thought she knew their errand.

They walked up to her. Clara paid her debt even to the last penny.

"Now, mamma Wilmot," said she, when it had been received, "can you confide in me again?"

"Yes, Clara, fully, entirely, far more than before you had ever made it necessary that I should try you as I have done. Before that trial I hoped that you would persevere in doing right at the expense of some pain to yourself, I am now sure that you will. I always knew that you had right feelings, Clara, and I loved you for them; I now know that you have right principles, and honor you for them. Why do you smile, Grace?"

"Because it seems so strange, mamma, that you should talk of honoring a little girl like Clara."

"A little girl, Grace, who resists the temptation to do wrong and steadily perseveres in doing right, is as deserving of honor as any one, and I repeat that I honor Clara."

Tears stood in Clara's eyes, and her cheeks were flushed with emotion.

"Then, mamma Wilmot, you will not be ashamed to wear the locket?"

"No, my love, I shall be proud to wear it."

Clara took something from Grace, saying, "You must let me put it on, Grace."

"But you must first sew it to my bracelet," said Mrs. Wilmot, taking off that which Grace had woven and which she wore tied with a piece of riband.

"No," said Clara, "here is the bracelet as well as the locket," and she produced a very handsome hair bracelet, fastened to the locket with small gold rings, and clasped it with a most triumphant air on Mrs. Wilmot's wrist.

"You did not weave this, Grace."

"No, mamma, Cecille wove it, and I paid her for it just what the jeweller pays her, and then I got Mr. Brenner to put it on the locket, and yet I have some of the money left that I have saved up these two months."

"Why, have you been saving too?"

"Yes, mamma, Clara would not let me spend my money on her, because she said you told her she must practise self-denial, and it would not be self-denial if I gave her what she wanted."

"That was being a little extravagant in your understanding of what I meant, Clara; I only intended that you should be self-denying in the use of your own money."

"Was I wrong to refuse Grace?" asked Clara anxiously.

"No, my dear—not wrong. It was more than I demanded of you, but with your understanding of my words, it was quite right."

"But, mamma," said Grace, a little impatiently, "I was going to tell you that Clara and I both have some money left, and now that we see how much we can save, we thought—that is, we wanted to ask you whether we could not do some good with it."

Mrs. Wilmot smiled.

"Don't laugh at us, mamma: it is not very foolish—is it?"

"Foolish, my child!—it is very wise; and if I smiled, it was with pleasure that my children should have had such a thought. This is being truly generous. Older people than you sometimes make the mistake of calling those generous who value money so little that they throw it away without thought or care; but the truly generous value it much, because they know that it can buy clothing for the naked, and food for the starving. What they so value, they can neither keep from those to whom it is due, nor throw away on foolish trifles. So, you see, the truly generous are just and economical. But what good have you thought of doing first with your money?"

Clara now spoke: "We thought first we would try to get some good clothes for the Sandfords, that they may go to Sunday School."

The Sandfords were the three little girls whom Clara and Grace taught. I cannot repeat to you all that Mrs. Wilmot said in reply to this proposal, but I can tell you what she did. She went with the girls to make their purchases, showed them how to lay out their money most advantageously for their little pupils, cut out the garments for them when the cloth was brought home, and directed them how to make them. In this work Martha and Lucy, Kate and Emma assisted—so that their kindly and generous feelings were awakened, and they too began to save from their own selfish gratifications to give to those who were in want.

Mrs. Wilmot now takes the children with her when she goes to visit the sick and the poor around her, and in these visits they often find some object for their charity. Sometimes it is an old woman who needs a flannel wrapper—sometimes, a child who is walking on snow and ice without shoes. These they would once, perhaps, have passed without notice; but now they do, what we all should do—they look out for opportunities to do good.