ot all the hard part of doing right, and her dream was very
pleasant--so pleasant, that at last she said, with great determination,
"I mean to be so kind and good, that they will all love me. I'm going to
try. I'll begin at once, to-night."

So she started down-stairs. Poor Belle! how many times had she come out
of her little room and gone down-stairs with the same determination to
do better, and how many times had she failed!

And how many times had Nannie come out of the same little room with the
same resolution, and almost always succeeded! What made the difference?
If you had been there sometimes with Nannie, you would have found that
she did one thing that Belle had not done. She knelt down and asked God
to help her.

There was the difference. Belle was trying to make herself good, Nannie
was praying to Jesus to help her.

As Belle came into the sitting-room, her mother said to her, "You ought
to have come down immediately to help to set the table, Belle; Nannie
set it for you."

Belle said nothing, neither did she thank Nannie, who looked up for a
moment, then went on reading.

"Belle," said her mother, "you may fill the water-pitcher, since Nannie
has done your work for you."

"I didn't ask her to do my work," said Belle, as she took the pitcher.
"That's always the way," she said to herself; "now I came down-stairs
feeling pleasant enough, and mother began scolding me because I hadn't
set the table. There's no use trying. I wasn't to blame."

Who _was_ to blame?

After supper Belle sat down with a book she was busy reading. Just as
she began, her father asked her to bring his slippers.

"In a minute," she said, without looking up, while she went on reading.

Nannie, seeing Belle so much interested, ran off and brought the slippers,
and received a pleasant "Thank you!" from her father. Belle was not so
much interested in her book as not to hear the "Thank you," and it again
excited the angry feelings.

"I was going in a minute," she said to herself. "Nannie needn't have
been in such a hurry. I wasn't to blame."

Who _was_ to blame?

"I wish one of you would take Charlie to bed," said their mother, as she
came in with her basket of mending. Here was a good opportunity to help
her mother, and Belle put down her book with determination, and said,
"I'll take him."

"No," said Master Charlie, "I don't want Belle to put me to bed;--I want
Nannie. You go, Nannie," he said, putting his little arms aroun