not that fixed hectic look that both the others have,
especially Lizzie.'

'But she wants brightness and animation,' said Anne, 'and she so often
looks dismal and fretful, that I cannot fancy admiring her.'

'There has never been much sympathy between you and Helen,' said Lady
Merton, smiling.

'No,' said Anne, 'I never felt as if I knew or liked her. I believe
Rupert and I were very unkind to her in our younger days; but, oh! she
was the most tiresome whining child I ever knew.'

'I believe that, though she was too young to know it,' said Lady
Merton, 'poor little Helen suffered more from your aunt's death than
either of her sisters.'

'How so, Mamma?' said Anne, looking rather alarmed.

'She was a very delicate baby, requiring a great deal of care,' said
Lady Merton; 'indeed, we have always thought that your aunt laid the
foundation of her illness, by sitting up with her while she was cutting
her large teeth, and during your aunt's illness, it was painful to see
how the poor child missed her. And after her mother died, though Helen
had grown strong and healthy, old Margaret still made her the pet; and
uncertain nursery treatment, without her mother's firm kindness, was
not the best cure for such a temper as hers.'

'Yes,' said Anne, 'I remember she was always called Baby, and allowed
to have her own way, till she was six years old, when Horace was born.
How very ill-natured I must have been to her, and how cruel it really
was of me. But I wonder my uncle did not prevent Margaret from
spoiling her.'

'My dear, a man with a parish of fifteen hundred inhabitants, cannot
watch his own nursery very minutely,' said Lady Merton; 'he taught
Elizabeth admirably, and that was all that could be expected of him.
Besides, with all his perfections, managing little girls is not what he
is best fitted for.'

Anne laughed. 'No, he is too grave and cold; I am rather afraid of him
still, I do not think he has any toleration for nonsense; but of course
he must be different with his own children. And how do you think Mrs.
Woodbourne trained Helen?'

'I can hardly tell,' said Lady Merton; 'I used to admire her patience
and sweetness of temper, when Helen's fretfulness was most wearisome;
at the same time that I thought it might have been better for the child
to speak sharply to her, and punish her if she did not leave off
whining directly. I believe I should have done so, though I do not
know that it would have been the