o love; and it was
difficult for her ever to love where she did not pity. Christopher did
not understand this, and was careful not to appeal to Elisabeth's
sympathy for fear of depressing her. Herein, both as boy and man, he
made a great mistake. It was not as easy to depress Elisabeth as it was
to depress him; and, moreover, it was sometimes good for her to be
depressed. But he did unto her as he would she should do unto him; and,
when all is said and done, it is difficult to find a more satisfactory
rule of conduct than this.

"Cry, lovey?" said Mrs. Bateson; "I should just think she did--fit to
break her heart."

Thereupon Jemima Stubbs became a heroine of romance in Elisabeth's eyes,
and a new interest in her life. "I shall go and see her to-morrow," she
said, "and take her something nice for her little brother. What do you
think he would like, Mrs. Bateson?"

"Bless the child, she is one of the Good Shepherd's own lambs!"
exclaimed Mrs. Bateson, with tears in her eyes.

Mrs. Hankey sighed. "It is the sweetest flowers that are the readiest
for transplanting to the Better Land," she said; and once again
Christopher hated her.

But Elisabeth was engrossed in the matter in hand. "What would he like?"
she persisted--"a new toy, or a book, or jam and cake?"

"I should think a book, lovey; he's fair set on books, is Johnnie
Stubbs; and if you'd read a bit to him yourself, it would be a fine
treat for the lad."

Elisabeth's eyes danced with joy. "I'll go the first thing to-morrow
morning, and read him my favourite chapter out of The Fairchild Family;
and then I'll teach him some nice games to play all by himself."

"That's a dear young lady!" exclaimed Mrs. Bateson, in an ecstasy of
admiration.

"Do you think Jemima will cry when I go?"

"No, lovey; she wouldn't so far forget herself as to bother the gentry
with her troubles, surely."

"But I shouldn't be bothered; I should be too sorry for her. I always am
frightfully interested in people who are unhappy--much more interested
than in people who are happy; and I always love everybody when I've seen
them cry. It is so easy to be happy, and so dull. But why doesn't Jemima
fall in love if she wants to?"

"There now!" cried Mrs. Bateson, in a sort of stage aside to an
imaginary audience. "What a clever child she is! I'm sure I don't know,
dearie."

"It is a pity that she hasn't got a Cousin Anne," said Elisabeth, her
voice trembling with sympathy. "When you'v