On the whole, when they set off for Sabbath-school, Jerry accompanying them, arrayed in a fresh brown linen suit, Mrs. Decker watching them from the side window, admitted that she never saw a nicer-looking set in her life! She even had the courage to call Mr. Decker to see how nice the two little girls looked, and he came and watched them out of sight. And when he said that his Nan was about as nice a looking girl as he wanted to see, she answered heartily that Nannie was the very best girl she ever saw in her life.

Fairly in the Sabbath-school, a fit of extreme shyness came over the two little Deckers. With Susie, as usual, it took the form of fierceness; she planted her two stout feet in the doorway and resolutely shook her head to all coaxings to go any farther; keeping firm hold of Sate's hand, and giving her arm a jerk now and then, to indicate to her that she was not to stir from her protector's side. The situation was becoming embarrassing. Nettie could not leave them, and Jerry would not; though some of the boys were giggling, those of his class were motioning him to leave the group and join them. The superintendent came forward and cordially invited the children in, but Susie scowled at him and shook her head. Then Jerry went around to Sate's side and held out his hand. "Sate," he said in a winning tone, "come with me over where all those pretty little girls sit, and I will get you a picture paper with a bird on it."

To Susie's utter dismay, Sate who had meekly obeyed her slightest whim during all her little life, suddenly dropped the hand that held hers, and gave the other to Jerry, with a firm: "I'm going in, Susie; we came to go in, and Nettie wants us to." Poor, astonished, deserted Susie!

She had been so sure of Sate that she had neglected to keep firm hold, and now she had slid away. There was nothing left for Susie but to follow her with what grace she could.

They were seated at last. Seven little girls of nearly Nettie's size and age. As she took a seat among them, I wish I could give you an idea of how she felt. Up to this hour, it had not occurred to her that she was not as well dressed as others of her age. Not quite that, either; being a wise little woman of business, she was well aware that her clothes were plain, and cheap, and that some girls wore clothes which cost a great deal of money. But I mean that this was the first time she had taken in the thought of the difference, so that it gave her a sting. The Sabbath-school which she had been attending, was a mission, in the lower part of the city; the scholars, nearly all of them, coming from homes where there was not much to spare on dress; and the girls of her class had all of them dressed like herself, neatly and plainly. It was very different with these seven girls. She felt at once, as she seated herself, as though she had come into the midst of a flower garden where choice blossoms were glowing on every side, and she might be a poor little weed. Summer silk dresses, broad-brimmed hats aglow with flowers, kid gloves, dainty lace-trimmed parasols—what a beautiful world it was into which this poor little weed had moved?

Nettie knew that her hat was coarse, and the ribbon narrow and cheap, and her gloves cotton, but these things had never troubled her before. Why should they now?

The truth is, it was not the pretty things, but the curious glances that their owners gave at the small brown thrush which had come in among them. They seemed to poor Nettie to be making a memoranda of everything she had on, from the narrow blue ribbon on her hair to the strong neat boots in which her plump feet were encased. The look in their eyes said, "How queerly she is dressed!" It was impossible to get away from the thought of their thoughts, and from the fact that the girl next to her drew her blue silk dress closer about her, and placed her pink-lined parasol on the other side, even though the pretty lady who sat before them in the teacher's seat, welcomed her kindly, and hoped she would be happy among them. Nettie hoped so, too; but she could hardly believe that it could be possible.

She looked over at Jerry. He seemed to be having a good time; there was not so much difference in boys' clothes as in girls. She did not see but he looked as well as any of them. She looked forward at the little girls. Susie had allowed herself to be led in search of Sate, and the two were at this moment side by side in a seat full of bobbing heads; they had taken off their sunbonnets, and their pretty heads bobbed about with the rest, and the white dresses of the two looked as well at a distance as the others, though Nettie could see that there were ruffles, and tucks, and embroidery and lace. But some were plain; and none of the wee ones seemed to notice or to care. It was only Nettie who had gotten among those who made her care, by the glance of their eyes, and the rustle of their finery. She tried to get away from it all; tried hard. She listened to the words read, and joined as well as she could, in the hymn sung, and answered quietly and correctly, the questions put to her; but all the while there was a queer lump in her throat, which kept her swallowing, and swallowing, and a wish in her heart that she could go back to Auntie Marshall's.

When the service was over, she stood waiting, feeling shy and alone. Jerry was talking with the boys in his class, and the little girls were being kissed by their pretty teacher. Her classmates stood and looked at her. At last the teacher who had been talking with one of the secretaries turned to her with a pleasant voice:

"Well, Nettie, we are glad to have you with us. Can you come every Sabbath, do you think? Are you acquainted with these girls? No? Then you must be introduced. This is Irene Lewis, and this is Cecelia Lester," and in this way she named the seven girls, each one making in turn what seemed to poor Nettie the stiffest little bow she had ever seen. At last, Irene Lewis, who stood next to her, and wore an elegant fawn-colored silk dress trimmed with lace, tried to think of something to say.

"You haven't begun school yet, have you? I haven't seen anything of you. What grade are you in?"

Nettie explained that she had not been in a regular school; that she went afternoons to a private school which had no grades, and that now she did not expect to go at all; because mother could not spare her.

"A private school!" said Miss Irene, "and held only in the afternoon! What a queer idea! I should think morning was the time to study. What was it for?"

Then it became necessary to further explain that the girls who attended this afternoon school, had all of them work to do in the mornings, and could not be spared.

"I have heard of them," said Lorena Barstow. "They are sort of charity schools, are they not?"

Lorena was dressed in white, and looked almost weighed down with rich embroidery; but she had a disagreeable smile on her face, and a look in her eyes that made Nettie's face crimson.

"I don't know," she said, quietly, "I never heard it called by that name. My auntie thought very well of it, and was glad to have me go." Then she turned away, and hoped that none of the girls would ask her any more questions, or try to be friendly with her. Just now, she could be glad of only one thing, and that was, that she need not go to school with these disagreeable people. She stepped quite out of sight behind the screen which shielded the next class, and waited impatiently for the little girls. They seemed to be having a very nice time, and were in no haste to come to her. Standing there, waiting, she had the pleasure of hearing herself talked about.

"Isn't she a queer little object?" said Lorena Barstow. And when one of the others was kind enough to say that she did not see anything very queer about her, Lorena proceeded to explain.

"You don't! Well, I should think you might. Did you ever see a girl in our class before, with a gingham dress on? Of course she wore her very best for the first Sunday; and her hat is of very coarse straw, just the commonest kind, and last year's shape at that; then look at her cotton gloves! I'm sure I think she is as funny a little object as ever came into this room."

"What of it? I am sure she looks neat and clean, and she spoke very prettily, and knew her lesson better than any of us."

"I didn't say she didn't. I was only talking about her clothes."

"Clothes are not of much consequence."

"O Miss Ermina! When you dress better than any of us. Why don't you wear gingham dresses, and cheap ribbons, and cotton gloves, if you think they look as well as nice ones?"

"I did not say that; I wear the clothes my mother gets for me; but I truly don't think they are the most important things in the world."

"Neither do I. You needn't take a person up in that way, as though you were better than anybody else. I am sure I am willing she should wear what she likes."

Then Cecelia Lester took up the conversation:

"She could not be expected to dress very well, of course. Don't you know she is old Joe Decker's daughter?"

"Who is Joe Decker? I never heard of him."

"Well, he is just a drunkard; they live over on Hamlin street. Mrs. Decker washes for my auntie once in awhile, when they have extra company, and I have seen her there, with both the little girls. I heard that Joe's daughter who has been living out, for years, was coming home."

"Living out! that little thing! No wonder she hasn't better clothes. She has a pretty face, I think. But it seems sort of queer to have her come into our class, doesn't it? We sha'n't know what to do with her! She can't go in our set, of course."

"O, I don't know. Perhaps Ermina Farley will invite her to her party." At this point, all the others laughed, as though a funny thing had been said, but Ermina spoke quietly: "So far as her gingham dress is concerned, I am sure I would just as soon. I don't choose my friends on account of the clothes they wear; and I suppose the poor thing cannot help her father being a drunkard; but then, I shouldn't like to invite her, for fear you girls would not treat her well."

Nettie could see the toss of Lorena Barstow's yellow curls as she answered: "Well, I must say I like to be careful with whom I associate; and mother likes to have me careful. I am sorry for the girl; but I don't know that I need make her my most intimate friend on that account. Say, girls, did you ever notice what fine eyes that boy has who came in with her? Some think he is a real handsome fellow."

"He seems to be a particular friend of this girl; I saw them on the street together yesterday, and they were talking and laughing, as though they enjoyed each other ever so much. Who is that boy?"

Lorena seemed to be prepared to answer all questions.

"He isn't much," she said, with another toss of her yellow curls. "His name is Jerry Mack; a regular Irish name, and he is Irish in face; I think he is coarse-looking; dreadful red cheeks! The girls over on the West Side say he is smart, and handsome, and all that. I don't see where they find it."

"O, he is smart," said Cecelia Lester. "My brother knows him, and he says there isn't a more intelligent boy in town. I used to think he was splendid; I have talked with him some, and he is real pleasant; but I must say I don't understand why he goes with that Decker girl all the time."

"I don't see why he shouldn't," declared Lorena. "For my part, I think they are well matched; he works for his board at Job Smith's the carman's, and she is a drunkard's daughter; they ought to be able to have nice times together."

"Does he work for his board?" chimed in two or three voices at once.

"Why, I suppose so, or gets it without working for it. He lives there, anyway. They say his father has deserted him, run away to California, or somewhere; Jerry will have to learn the carman's trade, and support himself, and Nettie, too, maybe." Whereupon there was a chorus of giggles. Something about this seemed to be thought funny.

Ermina seemed to have left the group, so they took her up next. "Ermina Farley meant to invite him to her party, but I hardly think she will, when she finds out how all we girls feel about it. She tries to do things different from everybody else, though; so perhaps that will be the very reason why she will ask them both. I'll tell you what it is, girls, we must stand up for our rights, and not let her have everything her own way. Let's say squarely that we will not go to her party if she invites out of our set. I could endure the boy if I had to, because he is very polite, and merry; and so few of the boys around here know how to behave themselves; but if he has chosen that Decker girl for his friend, we must just let them both alone. This class isn't the place for that girl; I wonder who invited her in? I think it was real mean in Miss Wheeler to ask her to come again, without knowing how we felt about it."

All this time was poor Nettie behind that screen. Not daring to stir, because there was no place for her to go. The little girls were still engaged with their teacher, who had Sate on her lap, and Susie by her side, and was showing them some picture cards, and apparently telling them a story about the pictures. Jerry had sat down beside a boy who was copying something which Jerry seemed to be reading to him, and various groups stood about, chatting. They were waiting for the bell to toll before they went into church. Nettie could not go without the little girls, and she could not stir without being brought into full view. And just then she felt as though it would not be possible for her to meet the eyes of anybody. If only she could run away and hide, where she need never see any of those dreadful girls again! or, for that matter, see anybody. It was true, she was a drunkard's daughter, and would go down lower and lower, until her neat dress would be in rags, and her hat, coarse as it was, would grow frayed, and be many years behind the fashion. What a cruel, wicked world it was! Who could have imagined that those pretty, beautifully dressed girls could have such cruel tongues, and say such hateful words! Didn't they know she was within hearing? Couldn't they have waited until she got out of the way, so that she need not have known how dreadful they were?

So far as that was concerned, they did not know it. To do them justice, I think none of them would have wounded her so, quite to her face. They might have been cold, but they would not have been cruel in her presence. They thought she went out of the room, instead of behind the screen. The bell tolled, at last, and Jerry finished his reading, and came over to her, his face bright. The girls in their beautiful plumage fluttered away like gay birds, the teacher of the little girls came toward her holding a hand of each, and saying brightly: "Are these your little sisters? What dear little treasures they are! We have had such a pleasant time together. I hope you have enjoyed your first day at Sabbath-school?"

"Thank you, ma'am," said Nettie. She was in great doubt as to whether this was a correct answer, for the sentence had the tone of a question in it, but truthful Nettie could not say that she enjoyed it very much, and did not want to say that she had never had a more miserable time in her life.

Jerry was harder to answer. "Was it nice?" he asked her, as soon as they were fairly outside. "Did you have a good time? Those girls looked a trifle like peacocks, didn't they? I thought you were the best dressed one among them."

O, ignorant boy! If there hadn't been such a lump in Nettie's throat, she would have laughed at this bit of folly. As it was, she contrived to give him a very little shadow of a smile, and was glad that the church door was near at hand, and that there was no more time for closer questions.

All through the morning service she was trying to forget. It was not easy to do, for there sat three of the girls in a seat on which she could look down all the time; and try as she would, it seemed impossible to keep eyes or thoughts from turning that way. The girls did not behave very well. They whispered a good deal, during the Bible reading, and giggled over a book that fell while the hymn was being sung; and though Nettie covered her eyes during prayer, she could not help hearing a soft little buzz of whispering voices, even then. Jerry looked straight before him, with bright, untroubled face, and seemed to be having a good time. Susie and Sate, who had never been in church before in their lives, behaved remarkably well. In the course of the morning Sate leaned her little brown head trustingly against Nettie and dropped asleep, and Nettie put her arm around her, arranged her pretty head comfortably, and looked lovingly down upon her, and was glad that she had a little sister to love. Two of them, indeed, for Susie sat bolt upright and looked straight before her, and took in everything with wide-open eyes, and looked so handsome with her glowing cheeks and her lovely curls, that it was almost impossible not to feel proud of the womanly little face.

Nettie contrived to keep herself occupied with the prattle of the children during the walk home. She was not yet ready for Jerry's questions. She did not know what to say. Of one thing she felt sure; that was, that she never meant to go to that Sabbath-school again.

Dinner was nearly ready when they reached home; such an appetizing smell of soup as had never filled the Decker kitchen before. Mrs. Decker had followed the directions of her young daughter with great care; and presently a very comfortable family sat down to the table. There were no soup plates, but there were two bowls for the father and mother, and a deep saucer for Norm; and the little girls were made happy with tin cups, two of which Nettie had found and scoured, the day before. It was certainly a very pleasant time. After dinner, as Nettie was preparing to wash the dishes, her mother came out with a troubled face, and whispered:

"Norm says he guesses he will go out for a walk; and I know what that means; he gets with a mean set every Sunday, and they carouse dreadful; it is the worst day in the week for boys. I was thinking, what if you could get that boy next door to go a-fishing again; Norm enjoyed it last night first-rate; and he said that boy was as jolly company as he should ever want. If he could keep him away from that set, he would be doing a good deed."

"But, mother," she said, "it is Sunday."

"Yes," said Mrs. Decker, "that's just what I've been saying; Sunday is the day when he gets into the worst kind of scrapes. Do you think Jerry would help us?"

"I know he would if he could; but he could not go fishing on Sunday, you know."

"Why not? I should think it was enough sight better than for Norm to go off with a set of loafers, who do all sorts of wicked things."

Poor Nettie was not skilled in argument; she did not know how to explain to her mother that Jerry must not do one wrong thing, to keep Norm from doing another wrong thing, even though the thing he chose might be the worse of the two. There was only a simple statement which she could make. "This is God's day, mother, and he says we must not do our own work, or our own pleasure on his day; and I know Jerry will try to obey him, because he is his soldier."

Mrs. Decker looked at the red-cheeked young girl a moment, then drew a long sigh.

"Well," she said, "I know that is the way good folks talk; I used to hear plenty of it when I was young; and I was brought up to keep the Sabbath as strict as anybody; I would do it now if I could; but I'm free to confess that I would rather have Norm go a-fishing, ten times over, than to go with those fellows and get drunk."

"Yes'm," said Nettie, respectfully. "But then, God says we must obey him; and he has told us just how to keep the Sabbath day. He couldn't help us to do things for other people, if we begin by disobeying Him."

Mrs. Decker went away, the trouble still on her face, and Nettie began to wash the dishes. Suddenly, she dropped her dish towel and rushed after Norman as he lounged out of the door.

"Norman," she called, just as he was moving down the street, "won't you take the little girls and me over to that green place, that I see, the other side of the pond? There is such a pretty tree there, and it looks so pleasant on the bank. I have some story papers that I promised to read to the little girls, and that would be such a nice place for reading. Won't you?"

Norm stopped and looked down at her in astonishment, and some embarrassment. "You can go over there without me," he said, at last; "it isn't such a dreadful ways off; there's a plank across the stream down there a ways, where it is narrow. Lots of girls go there."

Nettie looked over at it timidly. She was honestly afraid of the water, and nothing short of keeping Norm out of harm's way would have tempted her to cross a plank, with the little girls for companions. She spoke in genuine timidity.

"I wouldn't like to go over there alone, with just the children. I am not used to going about alone. Couldn't you go with us, for just a little while? It will seem so nice to have a big brother to take care of me."

Something about it all seemed suddenly rather nice to Norm. He had never been asked to take care of anybody before. He stood irresolutely for a moment, then said lazily, "Well, I don't know as I care; bring on your babies, then, and we'll go."

Nettie sped back to the kitchen, dashed after the little girls and their sunbonnets, saying to Mrs. Decker as she went: "Mother, would you mind finishing the dishes? Norman is going to take the little girls and me over to the big tree, and we are going to stay there awhile, and read."

"I'll finish,'em," said Mrs. Decker, comfort in her tone, and she murmured, as she watched them away, Sate with her hand slipped inside of Norm's, "I declare, I never see the beat of that girl in all my life."