y, they are happy. You would only vex your dear mamma, and
make her feel badly, if you were moping and fretting here, where she
sent you to be with your auntie. Then you would spoil auntie's pleasure
if, instead of laughing and singing, you were crying and sitting in the
corner. She would say, 'O dear, what queer children these are! I'll be
glad when they're gone away.'"

"That would be dreadful! to have Aunt Maria think that," said Edith.
"But tell us your opinion about it."

"My opinion is, that it is every one's duty to be as cheerful as he can
be all the time. If things vex us and trouble us, let us say, 'Never
mind.' If it rains to-day, it will be clear to-morrow. If we pray to our
Father, about everything, we will never need to be sorrowful long."

Then Miss Rose taught them a pretty little verse:

"Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you."

Kneeling that night by her little white bed, Edith said her prayers as
usual, and then added another petition:

"Dear Lord Jesus, make me happy every night and day, so that I shall
love everybody, and everybody love me."

Edith was already one of those children whose lives are like "a little
light, within the world to shine."

CHAPTER IV.

CHERRIES ARE RIPE.

Faster and faster flew the May days by, and all the world was beautiful.
The strawberries grew red and sweet upon the vines, and the children
went out with the pickers to gather them, but they didn't work very
steadily at this, for the sun was hot, and picking berries is apt to
make the back ache. But the cherries most delighted them, and when Aunt
Maria told them that they could have just as many cherries to eat as
they wanted, and gave them one tree all to themselves, they hardly knew
how to express their joy. It was not only in eating the cherries, that
they had pleasure, for Aunt Maria let them have a tea-party, and said
they might choose their guests.

"They don't know anybody but the Lesters and the Randolphs," she said
complacently to Miss Rose.

"I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Edith and Johnnie invited a lot of
little ragamuffins from Wood's Alley," replied Miss Rose.

Wood's Alley was one of those wretched neighborhoods, which in cities
have a way of setting themselves down near rich people's doors. It was
the short cut to Main street, and when the people near Aunt Maria's were
in haste, they often took it, rather than go a long way round. The
windows in Wood's Alley were