About a month or two after Miss Lydia’s Mamma had begun to write an account of her behaviour, the little girl was playing with a few companions at a bench close by the garden-gate. Her Papa had made her a present of a small basket of cherries out of the hot-house, and the little girls were amusing themselves with tying them on sticks, as the fruiterers do when they first bring them to market.

While they were thus employed, a little girl very tidily dressed walked by, leading by the hand her brother, who appeared between two and three years old. The girl’s attention was taken by the sight of the fruit at so early a season, and the little boy, who thought they looked nice, though he did not know what they were, said, Look, Sally!—gapes! The girl did not speak nor give offence to any body; but one of the Misses, whose pride predominated over her good-nature, asked her, in a haughty tone of voice, What she wanted? and bade her not be so impertinent as to stand staring at them. The little girl moved on directly; but the poor little boy pulled from her, and said, in a crying tone of voice, Gapes! I want gapes! This produced a second huffing from the same Miss; who said, Get you gone, you little monkey. His sister then immediately took him away.

Miss Lydia, who was much hurt at her friend’s behaviour, said, How could you speak so crossly to the poor little things? why should not they love fruit as well as we; and more too, as it must appear a greater rarity? She then went out at the gate, and stepping after the little children, put into the little boy’s hand a stick of cherries which she had just tied up. There, little boy, said she, these are not grapes; they are cherries: when you have played with them a little while you must give your sister half. Yes; said he, I always give sister half—Look, Sally!

But you should say, Thank you, Miss, said Sally, making a pretty courtesy; and do not pull them off till you have shown them to my mammy: they are so pretty!

Little Lydia felt pleased and very comfortable after she had done this good-natured action; and she could not help being conscious that her Mamma would have approved of her for it; but she knew too well what was right and becoming to tell of it herself, or even to give a hint of it; for though nothing gave her so much pleasure as her mother’s commendations, yet she knew that a good action loses all its beauty when it is done for the sake of any reward whatever. Her behaviour, however, did not pass unobserved, for the maid, who was walking in the garden with a baby in her arms, saw the whole transaction, and was so delighted with it, that when she went to dress her mistress, she told her how sweetly Miss Lydia had behaved. Miss Lydia’s Mamma, however, took no notice at all to her of it. Think what was the dear girl’s surprise in the morning, when she heard the whole story read aloud in her Mamma’s journal; and think what pleasure she received from praises so well deserved as those which were bestowed upon her. Her Mamma inquired of her whether she knew the little girl’s name, or where she lived? she answered, No, Mamma: she looked very clean and neat, Mamma; but I observed that she had no tippet, nor any thing to keep her neck from the sun; and the little boy’s toes came through his shoes. If you please, I will give her the garden shawl I have just left off; and I think those red shoes, which are too little for Edwin, will fit the little boy. Then you shall have the pleasure of giving those things to them, said her Mamma; you may ask Mary for them, and I have a bit of check by me, which I will cut into an apron, and you shall make it for the little girl; Mary says she is about your height.—Lydia did not forget the permission she had. The shawl and shoes were laid carefully by, and with them a paper of almonds and raisins, which she had bought with her own money.

Lydia, with great pleasure, set about the task proposed to her, and worked with great neatness and expedition upon the apron. Miss Stark happening to come in when she was at work, expressed great surprise at her employment, and said, she wondered her Mamma should let her wear the skin off her pretty little fingers with such coarse, nasty work, which was much fitter for the maid than for her; and that she thought it much below her to be making checked aprons for a poor girl.

When Miss Stark was gone, Lydia told her Mamma what she had said to her. I must not, said her Mamma, suffer Miss Stark to visit you, if she puts such notions into your head. Can it possibly be below you to be useful to any person living? Your pretty little fingers, as she calls them, were given you to be of use; and though she employs hers only at the harpsichord, yet I think they should often be exercised in plain and profitable works.

Lydia.

I like to work sometimes, Mamma.

Mamma.

It is very proper you should. Never, especially, my dear girl, be above working for the poor, and doing them every service in your power: little girls have seldom much money, their very cloaths are given them; the only thing they have of their own is their time: if they give up some of their play-hours to work for a poor neighbour, they strengthen good dispositions and habits in themselves, and do, perhaps, the only act of charity in their power. You had no apron to give the little girl, so I let you work at this, that you might have the pleasure of making it by that mean your own present; and I hope, that during the whole of your life, you will find it one of your greatest pleasures to do good and kind actions. Miss Stark would, I think, be ashamed of talking so, if she ever read her bible, or considered who has laboured so much for the poor.

Lydia.

Miss Stark’s Mamma gives her a great deal of money, and I believe she often gives some of it away.

Mamma.

I do not know that she wants good nature; but she puts herself to no inconvenience by giving away money, when she can go and get more of her Mamma the first time she wants a toy; and she would show much more real charity, if she wore less finery, or spent a little less time in diversion, for the sake of being serviceable to the poor sometimes. Charity, my dear, means love to our neighbour; and we are most sure that love is sincere when we part with something we like, or give ourselves some trouble to serve them.

Lydia.

Then, Mamma, instead of going into the garden this afternoon, I will finish the apron; at present I am very tired, and must go and take a run.