a similar
description. So she began to make up the fire, and asked Bill to fetch
some chips; and when he gave her the gruff answer, that he did not see
any use in making a fire when there was nothing to cook by it, she went
herself and brought the wood without a word of complaint.

Presently Bill said, "Here! you lend me those bellows; you're not
blowing it in the right way; girls never do!" He found out that Mary was
wise in making a bright fire ready; for before the blowing was ended,
the neighbour with whom the milk had been left brought it in, and little
handy Mary prepared the porridge as well as the mother herself could
have done. They had just ended when Bessy came in almost breathless; for
she had suddenly remembered, in the middle of her knitting-lesson, that
Bill and Mary must be at home from school.

"Oh!" she said, "that's right. I have so hurried myself! I was afraid
the fire would be out. Where's Jenny? You were to have called for her,
you know, as you came from school. Dear! how stupid you are, Mary. I am
sure I told you over and over again. Now don't cry, silly child. The
best thing you can do is to run off back again for her."

"But my lessons, Bessy. They are so bad to learn. It's tables day
to-morrow," pleaded Mary.

"Nonsense; tables are as easy as can be. I can say up to sixteen times
sixteen in no time."

"But you know, Bessy, I'm very stupid, and my head aches so to-night!"

"Well! the air will do it good. Really, Mary, I would go myself, only
I'm so busy; and you know Bill is too careless, mother says, to fetch
Jenny through the streets; and besides they would quarrel, and you can
always manage Jenny."

Mary sighed, and went away to bring her sister home. Bessy sat down to
her knitting. Presently Bill came up to her with some question about his
lesson. She told him the answer without looking at the book; it was all
wrong, and made nonsense; but Bill did not care to understand what he
learnt, and went on saying, "Twelve inches make one shilling," as
contentedly as if it were right.

Mary brought Jenny home quite safely. Indeed, Mary always did succeed in
everything, except learning her lessons well; and sometimes, if the
teacher could have known how many tasks fell upon the willing, gentle
girl at home, she would not have thought that poor Mary was slow or a
dunce; and such thoughts would come into the teacher's mind sometimes,
although she fully appreciated Mary's sweetness and humility