s we are all apt to feel after the excitement of new and
sudden resolves, rather flat; and the sight of Muff sitting near a
laurel bush in the garden, enjoying the morning sun, quite unnerved her.
"Part with Muff! No, I cannot; and I don't believe any one would do such
a thing for such a boy as Fred. I cannot part with Muff, that's certain.
Fred had better give up his birds, and so I shall tell him."

All this is very natural, but what is very natural is often very wrong,
and Edith did not fuel that calm happiness which she had done the night
before. When she received Emilie's morning kiss, she said, "Well, Miss
Schomberg, I thought last night I had made up my mind to part with Muff,
but I really cannot! I do love her so!"

"It would be a great trial to you, I should think," said Emilie, "and
one that no one could _ask_ of you, but if she had a good master, do you
think you should mind it so very much? You would only have your own
sorrow to think of, and really it would be a kindness if those poor
birds are to be kept. The cat terrifies them by springing at the wires,
and if they were sitting they would certainly be frightened off their
nests."

Edith looked perplexed; "What shall I do Emilie? I _do_ wish to please
Fred, I do wish to do as I would be done by; I really want to get rid of
my selfish nature, and yet it will keep coming back."

"Watch as well as pray, dear," said Emilie affectionately, "and you will
conquer at last." They went down to breakfast together. "Watch and
pray." That word "watch," was R word in season to Edith, she had
_prayed_ but had well nigh forgotten to _watch_.

She could not eat her meal, however, her heart was full with the
greatness of the sacrifice before her. Do not laugh at the word _great_
sacrifice. It was very great to Edith; she loved with all her heart; and
to part with what we love, be it a dog, a cat, a bird, or any inanimate
possession, is a great pang. After breakfast she went into the little
room where Muff usually eat, and taking hold of the favourite, hugged
and kissed her lovingly, then carrying her down stairs to the kitchen,
asked cook for a large basket, and with a little help from Margaret,
tied her down and safely confined her; then giving the precious load to
her father's errand boy, trotted into the town, and stopped not till she
reached Miss Webster's door. Her early visit rather astonished aunt
Agnes, who was at that moment busily engaged in dressing Miss Webs