ight to be hurt, I don't intend to
show it. They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy
actions, won't they, Marmee?"

"That's the right spirit, my dear. A kiss for a blow is always best,
though it's not very easy to give it sometimes," said her mother, with
the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and
practicing.

In spite of various very natural temptations to resent and retaliate,
Amy adhered to her resolution all the next day, bent on conquering her
enemy by kindness. She began well, thanks to a silent reminder that
came to her unexpectedly, but most opportunely. As she arranged her
table that morning, while the little girls were in the anteroom filling
the baskets, she took up her pet production, a little book, the antique
cover of which her father had found among his treasures, and in which
on leaves of vellum she had beautifully illuminated different texts.
As she turned the pages rich in dainty devices with very pardonable
pride, her eye fell upon one verse that made her stop and think.
Framed in a brilliant scrollwork of scarlet, blue and gold, with little
spirits of good will helping one another up and down among the thorns
and flowers, were the words, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

"I ought, but I don't," thought Amy, as her eye went from the bright
page to May's discontented face behind the big vases, that could not
hide the vacancies her pretty work had once filled. Amy stood a
minute, turning the leaves in her hand, reading on each some sweet
rebuke for all heartburnings and uncharitableness of spirit. Many wise
and true sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in
street, school, office, or home. Even a fair table may become a
pulpit, if it can offer the good and helpful words which are never out
of season. Amy's conscience preached her a little sermon from that
text, then and there, and she did what many of us do not always do,
took the sermon to heart, and straightway put it in practice.

A group of girls were standing about May's table, admiring the pretty
things, and talking over the change of saleswomen. They dropped their
voices, but Amy knew they were speaking of her, hearing one side of the
story and judging accordingly. It was not pleasant, but a better
spirit had come over her, and presently a chance offered for proving
it. She heard May say sorrowfully...

"It's too bad, for there is no time to make other things, and I