c
paper, and which contained most of her worldly goods.

From the very bottom she pulled out a square leather frame, and as she
rubbed the glass, which was thick with dust, with her sleeve, she said--

"Isn't she pretty?"

It was an old faded photograph of what must have been a pretty girl, in
a white dress with a band of ribbon, which a photographic artist had
painted blue, and had touched the eyes with the same colour.

"I think she is beautiful," Bertha said. "I never saw any one so
pretty till I saw you, and I think you are like poor Aunt Maggie."

Joy looked doubtfully at the portrait, and said--

"Yes, it's very nice. She looks so good and so sweet, as if she could
never have been cross or naughty."

"That's just what _I_ think," Bertha said; "and she _is_ like you, for
you are good, and I am sure you are never cross."

"Oh!" little Miss Joy said, "that's a mistake. I am naughty when I
hate Miss Pinckney, and when I am impudent to Susan. She _says_ I am
impudent, and Miss Pinckney has called me a 'saucy little baggage' very
often. That's why I don't go into Miss Pinckney's shop to see dear
Goody Patience and Jack.

"Ah!" Joy added with a sigh, "there is no Jack to see now; he is gone,
and I do miss him so. He used to be so good to me;" and her eyes grew
dim, and the corners of her rosy lips turned down ominously. "But I
must go to Uncle Bobo now; he must be tired of waiting, and he'll get
fidgety."

"Very well," Bet said; "I don't want you to get a scolding."

"A scolding!" Joy said, recovering herself from the momentary
depression which the thought of Jack's loss had caused. "Uncle Bobo
never scolded me in his life."

Then Joy stepped cautiously down the narrow stairs, and turning said--

"Good-bye, Bet; good-bye."

"Good-bye," poor Bet said, as, standing at the back-door, she watched
her friend skipping off across the road to the seat where Uncle Bobo
sat, with his round back--very round--and his short legs tucked up, one
wide-toed boot upon the other, to give support.

"I wish she'd kissed _me_," poor Bet thought, as she saw Joy throw her
arms round the old man's neck, and kiss all that was visible of his
rosy cheek beneath his large wide-awake. "I'd like her to kiss me like
that;" and poor Bet followed the two figures with lingering, longing
eyes till they were out of sight.

Other eyes were following them also. Mrs. Skinner was standing by the
window of her parlour, peering over