daughter, and smiled at her.

Somehow folks often _did_ smile at Hepsie. She was such a breezy brisk
sort of child, and had a way of looking at life in general that was
distinctly interesting.

"Of course, dearie," she went on, in that protecting little manner
Hepsie loved to adopt when talking to her beloved mother, "you can't
imagine I am thinking of people like you. If every one were half--no--a
quarter as delightful as _you_, the world would be charming. Oh dear no,
I am not flattering at all, I am just speaking the truth; but there
aren't many of your kind about, as I find out more and more every day."

"My dearest of little girls," interrupted her mother, as they turned
into Sunnycoombe Lane, where the snow lay crisply shining, and the trees
were flecked with that dainty tracing of frozen white, "you look at me
through glasses of love, and _they_ have a knack of painting a person as
fair as you wish that one to be. Supposing you give the rest of the
world a little of their benefit, Hepsie mine!"

[Sidenote: An Unruly Member]

Hepsie flung back her head, and laughed lightly. "Oh, you artful little
mother! That's your gentle way of telling me, what, of course, I
know--that I am a horrid girl for impatience and temper, when I get
vexed; but you know, mother darling, I shall never be able to manage my
tongue. It was born too long, and though on this very Christmas morning
I have been making ever so many good resolutions to keep the tiresome
thing in order--you mark my words, little mother, if it doesn't run off
in some dreadful way directly it gets the chance--and then you'll be
grieved--and I shall be sorry--and some one or other will be _in a
rage_!"

Mrs. Erldon drew in her lips. It was hard to keep from laughing at the
comical look on the little girl's face, and certainly what she said was
true. Some one was very often in a rage with Hepsie's tongue. It was a
most outspoken and unruly member, and yet belonged to the best-hearted
child in the whole of Sunnycoombe, and the favourite, too, in spite of
her temper, which was so quickly over, and her repentance always so
sincere and sweet.

She was looking up into Mrs. Erldon's face now with great honest blue
eyes in which a faint shadow could be seen.

"I met my grandfather this morning," she said in a quick, rather nervous
voice, "and I told him he was a wicked old man!"

Her mother turned so white that Hepsie thought she was going to faint,
and hung on to