“Now you can go skating with me, can’t you?” inquired Carrie Sherwood, as she pushed her little round face in at the door after dinner.

“Yes, now I can go,” replied Jessie. “I did ever so much on my slipper this morning, and shall get it done by the last of the week.”

“If you stick to it, but I know you won’t,” said Hugh, interrupting his sister.

Jessie felt a little anger stir in her heart on hearing this fling at a habit she was trying so so hard to overcome. But saying to herself, “never mind, I deserve it,” she merely gave Hugh a glance of reproof, and was silent.

“I say, that’s ungenerous, Mister Hugh,” observed Guy, taking up his sister’s case. “You know Jessie is learning to stick to her purposes, and that is more than anybody can say of you.”

“Don’t be too hard upon a fellow just for a joke,” replied Hugh, wincing under his brother’s hit.

“Well, don’t you throw stones at Jessie; at least, not so long as you live in a glass house yourself,” said Guy. Then turning to the girls, he added: “Come girls, get ready, and I’ll go with you to help Jessie try her new skates.”

“Oh, thank you, you dear good Guy!” replied Jessie, running to her brother and giving him a sweet sisterly kiss.

“I think I’ll go, too, if you’ll let me,” said Hugh.

“You may if you’ll promise not to poke fun at us if we fall down,” replied Jessie.

“If you do poke fun, master Hugh,” said Carrie, shaking her head at him, “we will never consent to let you join our party again!”

“That will be terrible!” exclaimed Hugh, with mock gravity. “Why I’d rather be drummed out of our Archery club than be turned off by the ladies.”

“Well, you may go this time, if you will carry my skates,” said Jessie.

“Of course I will; and is there any thing else, in the small way, that your most humble servant can do for you?” asked Hugh, bowing almost to the ground.

A laugh greeted this act of mock humility, and then all parties prepared to face the keen breeze in search of recreation on the ice.

“Where is Madge? is she ready?” shouted Jessie, as she stood at the foot of the stairs, warmly muffled for her walk.

“Yes, Miss, here she is,” replied Madge’s mother, as she came to the top of the stairs, leading her daughter by the hand.

Madge was dressed in an old plaid cloak, which had become too small for Jessie, and in a scarlet hood which had been laid aside for the same reason.

“A regular little red riding-hood, isn’t she?” whispered Hugh, to his brother, after taking a survey of the prim, little black-eyed miss before him. Then looking sour and angry, he added, “But why does Jessie take the beggar’s brat out with her?”

“Hugh! Hugh! Don’t talk in that way,” replied Guy, putting his hand playfully over his brother’s mouth.

“Get out!” cried Hugh, pushing his brother’s hand away and walking off in high dudgeon, in search of Walter, who, for some reason, had not come with his sister. His foolish pride had kindled anger in his breast.

Madge, with the usual quickness of girls of her age, had caught enough of Hugh’s words, and of the meaning of his act, to perceive that he was disposed to treat her with scorn. A cloud flitted across her brow, and her eyes flashed. It was clear that the proud, thoughtless boy had wounded her feelings.

“Hugh! Hugh! Don’t carry off my skates!” shouted Jessie, as her brother turned into the main road, from the lawn.

Whirling the skates over the fence, he kept on without a word. The skates, fortunately, fell on a heap of dry leaves and were picked up uninjured by Guy, who, with the three girls, soon found the way to some hollows, in the pasture, near the brook. These hollows, filled with shallow pools of water, now solidly frozen, were excellent places for young misses to slide and skate in.

Madge was not cheerful this afternoon. Hugh had wounded her pride, and stirred her sleeping passions. It was very ungenerous conduct, in a lad of his age, to treat an unfortunate child with scorn. Madge ought not to have allowed her temper to be ruffled. But, alas, poor child! she had not been taught to keep her evil temper under control. So she brooded over Hugh’s conduct. The more she thought of it, the more chafed and angry she felt.

Guy helped Carrie and his sister put on their skates. Jessie had never had a skate upon her foot before. Carrie had learned to use them a little the previous winter. Hence, she glided off something like a swan, while Jessie hobbled and slipped, and tumbled for a long time in vain attempts to keep upright on the ice.

Carrie was so taken up watching the laughable attempts of her friend, that she took no notice of poor Madge. Guy and Jessie were so busy, the former teaching, and the latter learning, that they too forgot her. Poor child! this neglect stung the wound which Hugh’s act had caused, and so, with many a frown and pout, she quietly stole from the hollow to a deeper one in which, by seating herself on a low stump, she could remain unseen.

“They is all proud,” mused Madge, half aloud. “I heard that You, or Hugh, whatever they call him, say ‘beggar’s brat.’ I know he meant me, and I know he went off cause I was with ’em. And there’s them gals; they don’t care for me a bit. Drat ’em! I wish mother would go away from here.”

This was very foolish talk for Madge. Had she looked on the kind side of her new-found friends, and thought of their gifts to her, and of the pleasant home they had given her and her mother for the time-being, and of their gentle words, she would have seen so much to be grateful for, that there would have been no room in her heart for unhappy feelings. But Madge forgot all these things. She saw nothing but Hugh’s scorn and Jessie’s neglect. With these she tortured herself. It was just as foolish as if she had taken some sharp thorns and scratched her arms and cheeks with them.

While Madge was thus making herself miserable, Jessie was making rare progress with her skating. After a few awkward falls and a few bumps and bruises, she learned “the how,” as Guy called it; and then, though still awkward, oh! how joyously she sped across the little pond chasing after Guy and Carrie, and shouting until the welkin rang again.

“Capital fun, isn’t it?” said she, gliding ashore, and sitting down on a stone almost out of breath.

“I call it nice sport for girls,” replied Carrie, pausing on the edge of the bank; “but you aren’t tired yet, are you?”

“Yes, a little. Besides, too much of a good thing, as my uncle says, destroys your relish for it. I guess I’ve skated enough for once,” said Jessie, stooping and unbuckling the straps of her skates.

“Pooh! Jessie’s not half a skater!” rejoined Carrie; “but what has become of your friend Madge?”

“Sure enough! Where is she? I had forgotten all about her.”

But Madge had wandered still farther off, and was nursing her bad feelings in a small grove which skirted the pasture. She was not visible from where the girls and Guy were.

“O Guy! Madge is gone. Won’t you please come and help me find her?” said Jessie, putting on a very long and sorrowful face.

“I’ll call her. She’s not far off, I’ll bet,” replied Guy.

Then placing his hands to his lips as a sort of speaking trumpet, he shouted—

“Madge! Ma-adge! Ma-a-adge!”

“Adge! Adge! Adge!” said an echo from the distant grove.

“Where can she be!” cried Jessie, now relieved of her skates and standing on a hillock, peering eagerly all over the pasture.

“I guess she is only gone home. Never mind her,” said Carrie. “She ain’t worth worrying about.”

“Yes, she is,” replied Jessie. “She is a poor unhappy girl, and I want to make her good and happy. Uncle Morris says everybody that God made is worth caring about, and I do care for Madge. Oh dear, I wish I knew where to find her.”

“See there?” cried Guy, pointing to a group of boys near the distant grove. “I think I see Madge among those fellows. I’ll lose my guess if that isn’t Idle Jem and his crew. There’s a girl among them for certain, but how could Madge stroll all up there and none of us see or think of her?”

“Let us go and see,” said Jessie.

Quickly as their nimble fingers could loose the straps, Carrie and Guy removed their skates. In a minute or two more, the three were hurrying across the pasture toward the boys and girl, whom they saw.

Madge was, indeed, one of that group. Idle Jem and his crew, while wandering across the pasture in search of the hickory-nuts which were hidden under the dead leaves, had found her in the grove. They began to jibe at her at once. The girl long used to the rough news and beggar boys of the city, and out of temper, withal, jibed back at them with interest. They goaded her with harsh words; and when Guy and the girls came within hearing, she was using language such as the pure-minded Jessie had never heard before.

“Hush, Madge!” said Guy, putting his hand on Madge’s shoulder. “Don’t swear! It’s wicked to talk so. You go home with Jessie and Carrie, I’ll take care of these boys.”

That last phrase was an unlucky one for Guy. The wicked boys took it up as a defiance.

“Take care of us, eh? That’s the talk is it? How will you do it, old fellow?” said Jem, sneering and chucking Guy’s chin.

“Keep your hands off me, if you please,” said Guy; “I want nothing of you only to let that poor girl alone.”

“It’s none of your business what we say to that gal,” said Noll Crawford.

“Yes, it is my business to see that you let her entirely alone,” replied Guy firmly. “So stand off, and let us take her quietly a way.”

“Shan’t do nothin’ of the kind,” said Peter Mink, running toward Madge, whose eyes flashed fire.

Guy grasped him by the collar and hurled him back from Madge, amidst the tears and cries of Carrie and Jessie who were both very much frightened.

“Oh! oh! a fight is it you want? Come I’ll fight with ye!” said Idle Jem, slipping up to Guy, and raising his fists as if for a battle.

“I never fight!” replied Guy. “Besides, we have nothing to fight about. I only wish you to let my little friend, Madge, alone.”

“She!” retorted Jem, “that swearing cat your friend, Master Guy Carlton. Pooh! You don’t have swearing gals among your friends, I know. That gal is some beggar’s brat, and we only want to have some fun with her.”

Jem’s tone was much lowered toward the latter part of his speech. His hands, too, fell as if by instinct to his pockets. Peter Mink and Noll Crawford drew back, the latter saying as he did so—

“Come, Jem, let’s leave the spunky little gentleman and his friend, Madge, to themselves. I’d rather pick up hickory nuts than listen to his gab.”

“Discretion always is the better part of valor, as Uncle Morris says,” thought Guy, as he walked away with his sisters, patting the head of old Rover.

It was the coming up of old Rover which had cooled off Idle Jem and his crew. The dog had been strolling about the pasture while Jessie was skating. Having missed his young master and mistress on returning to the pond, the faithful fellow had followed them. He came up just at the right moment. His rows of big white teeth, and his low growl, taught the idlers the discretion which Guy praised and which led them to cease their angry jibes. With Guy alone they might have contended. But Rover was an enemy they had not courage to face.

To the wounded pride and the ill temper of Madge, shame was now added. The kind and gentle Jessie had heard her swear, had seen her face flushed with passion, had had a glimpse into the dark corner of her evil nature. Poor Madge! She sullenly refused to speak or to permit either of the party to take her hand; but lagging behind the rest, she silently followed them home.

Jessie bade her friend, Carrie, good-by in front of Mr. Sherwood’s cottage. As they kissed each other, Carrie put her mouth to Jessie’s ear and whispered—

“Jessie, shall I tell you what I think about Madge?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t trouble my head about her any more, if I were you. She is a terribly wicked creature!”

Jessie sighed, but said nothing. On reaching home finding no one at liberty to talk with her, she went to her chamber and getting her writing materials and her portfolio, went down into the parlor and wrote the following answer to her cousin Emily’s letter: