it was of no use to scold
the baby, so she snatched the rose from the baby's hands, and said,
"You good-for-nothing, naughty little thing;" and then she burst into
tears. The baby began to cry too, and their mother came out to know
what was the matter. "O mother, how could you?" sobbed Amy
passionately. "Why did you let baby sit close to my rose-bush--my
beautiful rose? I had been saving it all the week for Mrs.
Mordaunt--and it was my last."

Mrs. Harrison tried to comfort Amy; and Kitty offered her the best
flower in her garden. They both felt very sorry for her. But Amy was
not to be comforted, and so they gave up trying. Poor Amy's evening
was quite spoilt,--not so much, I think, by the loss of her rose as by
the loss of her temper.

CHAPTER VI.

THE TRUTH SETTING FREE.

The next day she awoke, out of spirits and out of temper. She did not
see why she should always work, while Kitty was enjoying herself in
bed. She forgot the joy of serving others, and thought it very hard
others should not try to serve her. We are apt to be very strict about
other people's duties when we forget our own. So Amy lay in bed until
the last moment, and then hurried on her clothes, and hurried over her
work, and what was worse, hurried over her prayers, and thus went out
to meet the day's temptations unarmed.

It never improves the temper to be hurried; and Amy was still further
tried this morning by her father, who was in haste to be off to his
work, and wondered why she was so slow.

"It's of no use," grumbled Amy to herself, "to try to do right and
please everybody. The more one does, the more people expect. Nobody
thinks of scolding Kitty for being slow."

A day so begun seldom grows bright of itself. There is a sunshine
which can scatter even such clouds, but Amy did not look up to that;
it did not seem to shine for her; it never does, _if you will not look
up_. She felt very discontented and ill-used; it seemed as if no one
cared for her, and everything worked together to torment her; and so
things got darker and darker, and Amy's temper more bitter and her
heart sorer every moment.

At last her mother went out, and Kitty was sent to the bakehouse, and
Amy was left alone to rock the cradle and watch that the kettle did
not boil over.

Amy had much rather not have been left alone just then; her own
thoughts were not at all pleasant; but as she was alone she could not
help thinking. At first she thought how unki