rmed no part of Betsey's service of her mistress, and
that she rendered every attention grudgingly and ill. Emilie went up
cordially to Miss Webster, and was not prepared for the repulsive
reception with which she met. She wondered what she could have said or
done, except, indeed, in the refusal of the instrument, and that was
atoned for. Emilie might have known, however, that nothing makes our
manners so distant and cold to another, as the knowledge that we have
injured or offended him. Miss Webster, in receiving Emilie's advances,
truly was experiencing the truth of the scripture saying, that coals of
fire should be heaped on her head.

Poor Miss Webster! "There! set down the tray, you may go, and don't let
me see you in that filthy cap again, not fit to be touched with a pair
of tongs; and don't go up to Mrs. Newson in that slipshod fashion, don't
Betsey; and when you have taken up tea come here, I have an errand for
you to go. Shut the door gently. Oh, dear! dear, these servants!"

This was so continually the lament of Miss Webster, that Emilie would
not have noticed it, but that she appeared so miserable, and she
therefore kindly said, "I am afraid Betsey does not wait on you nicely,
Miss Webster, she is so very young. I had no idea of this accident, how
did it happen?"

How it happened took Miss Webster some time to tell. It happened in no
very unusual manner, and the effect was a scalt foot, which she
forthwith shewed Miss Schomberg. There was no doubt that it was a very
bad foot, and Emilie saw that it needed a good nurse more than a good
doctor. Mr. Parker was a medical man, and Emilie knew she should have no
difficulty in obtaining that kind of assistance for her. But the
nursing! Miss Webster was feverish and uneasy, and in such suffering
that something must be done. At the sight of her pain all was forgotten,
but that she was a fellow-creature, helpless and forsaken, and that she
must be helped.

All this time any one coming in might have imagined that Emilie had been
the cause of the disaster, so affronted was Miss Webster's manner, and
so pettishly did she reject all her visitor's suggestions as
preposterous and impossible.

"Will you give up your walk to-night, Edith," said Emilie on her return
to the shop, "Poor Miss Webster is in such pain I cannot leave her, and
if you would run home and ask your papa to step in and see her, and say
she has scalt her foot badly, I would thank you very much."

Em