is a nice child enough, when
she is not cross; but still there are some folks, it seems, who, if you
give them an inch, will take an ell. Where's Bessy, that she can't mind
her own sister?"

"Gone out charing," said Mary, clasping the little hand in hers tighter,
for she was afraid of Mrs. Jones's anger.

"I could go out charing every day in the week if I'd the face to trouble
other folks with my children," said Mrs. Jones, in a surly tone.

"Shall I take her back, ma'am?" said Mary, timidly, though she knew this
would involve her staying away from school, and being blamed by the dear
teacher. But Mrs. Jones growled worse than she bit, this time at least.

"No," said she, "you may leave her with me. I suppose she's had her
breakfast?"

"Yes; and I'll fetch her away as soon as ever I can after twelve."

If Mary had been one to consider the hardships of her little lot, she
might have felt this morning's occurrence as one;--that she, who dreaded
giving trouble to anybody, and was painfully averse from asking any
little favour for herself, should be the very one on whom it fell to
presume upon another person's kindness. But Mary never did think of any
hardships; they seemed the natural events of life, and as if it was
fitting and proper that she, who managed things badly, and was such a
dunce, should be blamed. Still she was rather flurried by Mrs. Jones's
scolding; and almost wished that she had taken Jenny home again. Her
lessons were not well said, owing to the distraction of her mind.

When she went for Jenny she found that Mrs. Jones, repenting of her
sharp words, had given the little girl bread and treacle, and made her
very comfortable; so much so that Jenny was not all at once ready to
leave her little playmates, and when once she had set out on the road,
she was in no humour to make haste. Mary thought of the potato-pie and
her brothers, and could almost have cried, as Jenny, heedless of her
sister's entreaties, would linger at the picture-shops.

"I shall be obliged to go and leave you, Jenny! I must get dinner
ready."

"I don't care," said Jenny. "I don't want any dinner, and I can come
home quite well by myself."

Mary half longed to give her a fright, it was so provoking. But she
thought of her mother, who was so anxious always about Jenny, and she
did not do it. She kept patiently trying to attract her onwards, and
at last they were at home. Mary stirred up the fire, which was to all
appearance qu