ver her work, and she thought how foolish
she had been to let her fancy for doing good, and trying to live up to
the sermon, lead her where she was allowed to do nothing, but get
herself teased and insulted, right and left.

Should she give up? That would look so silly. Yes, but would it not
serve Miss Manners right for giving her such stupid, unspiritual kind of
teaching to do, and also serve the children right for their pertness and
ingratitude?

No, she could not give up in this way. She had begun, and she must go
on, at least till she had some reason for giving up respectably and
civilly--only she wished she had known how unlike it was to what she had
expected before she had undertaken it!

Then she was sensible of a certain odd, uppish, self-asserting feeling
within her. She used to have it in old times, but she had learnt to
distrust it, and to know that it generally came when she was in a bad
way.

Was she thinking of pleasing herself, or of offering a little work to
please God, and try to let the good seed turn to good fruit? Ah! but was
it all a mistake? Was becoming a mark for Susan Bray to worry, doing any
good at all?

CHAPTER IV.

TEACHER AMY.

IT was a pleasant sight for Amy when poor little Edwin Smithers's pale
face brightened up, as she opened his door.

He was not like the rough little monkey she had known at the infant
school, who had only seemed to want to learn as little, and to play as
many tricks, as he could. In the hospital, the attention kind people had
paid him had quickened up his understanding, and mended his manners. He
had been petted and amused there, and the being left alone in the dull
cottage was a sad trial to him. His mother had regular work, and so had
his elder brother, but this kept them out all day from eight till five,
except that Mrs. Smithers kept Friday to do her own washing in. She was
obliged to be away even at dinner time, as her work lay far from home,
and she gave her next-door neighbour, Mrs. Rowe, a shilling a week to
keep up the fire, look in on the sick boy, and give him his dinner.

She was unlucky in her neighbour. Many women would have gladly given far
more kind service for no pay at all, but they were too far off, and Mrs.
Rowe made it a rule to "do nothing for nothing."

His brother and sisters came in for a little while at twelve, their
dinner time, but they wanted to go out to play, and had no notion of
amusing him; indeed he was glad when