r stepmother's sight; and then, perhaps,
if she were dressed so nicely, some of the other little girls might be
willing to play with her; for the poor child felt her isolated
position.

Then conscience said, "Would it be right?" Had she not been learning,
"Thou shalt not steal?" And had not Miss Lucy explained to her that
that meant taking anything, even the least, that was not her own? A
short time ago Nelly would have appropriated any trifle that came in
her way, without thinking twice about it; but some light had visited
her mind now, and she could distinguish what was darkness. But then
this would not be stealing, it would only be borrowing the frock! At
last she was so near the house, that she was obliged to make up her
mind at once; so, scarcely giving herself time to think, she wrapped
up the frock in the smallest possible compass, hid it behind a stone,
and ran on to leave her basket, hurrying nervously back, lest some one
should inquire for the missing article.

She found it quite safe, however, and managed to convey it unseen to
her little attic-room. But Nelly felt far more unhappy than she had
ever been when her harsh mother had beaten her most severely. She
could not understand how it was that she should feel so miserable. She
was glad that she could not go for her lesson to-night, for she should
have been ashamed to face Miss Lucy. One of the children just then
began to cry, and she ran down-stairs, glad of something to do, and
took the utmost pains to do her evening work particularly well, by way
of making up for the wrong of which she was inwardly conscious.

But when she went to bed, Nelly, for the first time in her life,
tossed about, unable to sleep. All sorts of possibilities of detection
and disgrace occurred to her, and, above all, the voice of conscience
told her she was little better than a thief. She had knelt down to say
the simple prayer she had been first taught by Miss Preston, "O Lord,
take away my sin, and make me Thy child, for Jesus Christ's sake;" but
indulged sin had come between her and the Father to whom she prayed,
so that her prayer was only a formal one. She fell asleep at last, but
only to dream uneasy dreams, in which the pink frock was always
prominent; and when she awoke in the early morning, it was with an
uneasy sense of something wrong, soon defined into a distinct
recollection. As she lay watching the early sunbeams slanting golden
into her dingy attic, her eye fell upo