nbeams through; and Amy Harrison's heart was full of
peace and sunshine, and the woods were full of beautiful ripe
blackberries, so that in a few hours the little party tripped homeward
full of glee, and with baskets filled to the brim with large ripe
blackberries. They were walking on fast, laughing and chattering, when
Amy saw that a little lame girl named Lucy Maitland could not keep up
with the rest, and so she stayed to talk to her. Lucy looked rather
dismal, and her basket was not half full; she could not climb in and
out among the rocks and brambles like the others. Amy felt sorry for
her; she thought she would give her some from her own basket, but she
did so wish to take it home full, and she did not like Kitty to have
more than herself. But then the words breathed into her heart, "By
love serve one another," and she resolved to seize the opportunity;
and without another word, she poured out a third of her own little
store, and nearly filled Lucy's basket. Lucy's eyes glistened, but she
had not time to say much, for the children were comparing what they
had each gathered, and Amy's basket had to be held up amongst the
rest.

"Why, I thought your basket was quite full," said Kitty.

"So it was," exclaimed little Lucy, "but she has half emptied it to
fill mine."

The children all loved Amy for doing this, and wondered how it was
they had not thought of little Lucy before; so now, many of them
insisted on pouring some blackberries into Lucy's basket, and giving
part of Amy's back to her. In this way Lucy and Amy's stores were soon
the largest of the whole, and the children separated in good humour
with each other and everything.

As Amy and Kitty entered the garden, the first thing that caught
Amy's eye was her little baby sister sitting on her little chair under
the window. On each side of the door grew a little rose tree, one of
which belonged to Amy and one to Kitty. Amy's was a red rose. The
flowers were nearly all gone, but one had lingered behind the rest.
Amy had watched it with especial care: she had plucked off all the
dead flowers around it, and this morning she had been thinking it
would just be in beautiful bloom by Sunday, that she might take it to
school as a present for Mrs. Mordaunt. And now there sat the baby with
that very bud in her lap quietly picking it to pieces, and holding up
the scattered leaves in Amy's face, she lisped, "Pretty, pretty!" Amy
was too angry and too vexed to think, and