wretch of a master who turned her out of doors to-night. Only look at
her thin, worn-out gingham dress--and at the holes in her shoes!" "Poor
little lamb!" said Mrs. Norton, gazing on her with a mother's
pity--blessed effect of paternal and maternal love, that it opens the
heart to all helpless little ones! "Don't cry, my dear, you will not be
turned out of this house!" "Indeed, I cannot help it, ma'am; you are so
very kind--like my mother." "But, wife and children, we must not stand
here talking; we must get a tub of cold water, and keep her hands and
feet in it for some time, or she will be all frost-bitten. Sally, my
child, you need not place that chair for her so near the fire, for she
cannot sit there: help your mother to bring the water." Sally, although
rather younger than little Margaret, was a large child for her age, and
while the latter was getting thawed, and the good mother was making a
warming drink, she hunted up her thickest clothes, and begged that the
poor stranger might wear them. "And may she not sleep with me to-night,
mother?" "Oh no, mother, let her sleep with us," said Kate and Lucy, the
two younger children. "I am glad to see you want to have her with you,"
replied their mother, "but as Sally is the nearest her age, and spoke
the first, I think I must gratify her. But if Kate and Lucy wish it, she
may sit between them at table." "Thank you, thank you, dear mother, that
will be pleasant. Oh how glad we are we have a new sister!"

Soon was the story of the orphan's trials confided to the sympathizing
ears of those who had now adopted her as one of themselves, and soon did
the little girl feel at home in that household of love. Every day, as it
developed her warm feelings, her lively gratitude, and the intrinsic
worth of a character which seemed to inherit the virtues of her pious
ancestors, attached her new friends to her more closely. Mrs. Norton
declared that Margaret was the best child she had ever seen, and
perfectly invaluable to her: if she did not keep her because it was her
duty, and because she loved her, she certainly would as a daily pattern
to her own children. And besides, she had such pretty manners, and knew
so much, that it was better than sending the children to school, to have
them with her.

If I were making up a story for your entertainment, my dear nieces and
nephews, I should tell you that Margaret always lived with this
admirable family, in perfect happiness, and that when s