ba--sister Rosalba--that
shall be her name--we'll speak so low that she can't hear a word. Then
we shall suspect that something strange is taking place down in the
cellar,--I mean the dungeons,--and we'll steal down and listen when
the abbess and the bishop and all of them are trying the sister, who
has a bible tied on her leg!" Here Eyebright gave an enormous yawn.
"And--if--the--mob--does come--Wealthy--will be sure to--sure to--"

But of what we shall never know, for at this precise moment Eyebright
fell asleep.

[Illustration: ASLEEP IN THE WOODS.]

She must have slept a long time, for when she waked the sun had
changed his place in the sky, and was shining on the western side of
the village houses. Had some good angel passed by, lifted the "black
dog" from her shoulder, and swept from her mind all its foolish and
angry thoughts, while she dreamed there under the trees? For behold!
matters and things now looked differently to her, and, instead of
blaming other people and thinking hard things of them, she began to
blame herself.

"How naughty I was," she thought, "to be so cross with poor mamma,
just because she wanted another cup of tea! Oh dear, and I made her
cry! I know it was me--just because I looked so cross. How horrid I
always am! And I was cross to papa, too, and put my lip out at him.
How could I do so? What made me? Wealthy hadn't any business to slap
me, though--

"But then I was pretty ugly to Wealthy," she went on, her conscience
telling her the truth at last, as consciences will, if allowed. "I
just tried to provoke her--and I called her Wealthy Ann Judson! That
always makes her mad. She never slapped me before not since I was a
little mite of a girl. Oh, dear! And only yesterday she washed all
Genevieve's dolly things--her blue muslin, and her overskirt, and
all--and she said she didn't mind trouble when it was for my doll.
She's very good to me sometimes. Almost always she's good. Oh, I
oughtn't to have spoken so to Wealthy--I oughtn't--I oughtn't!" And
Eyebright began to cry afresh; not angry tears this time, but bright,
healthful drops of repentance, which cleansed and refreshed her soul.

"I'll go right home now and tell her I am sorry," she said, impetuously;
and, jumping from her seat, she ran straight down the hill and across
the field, eager to make her confession and to be forgiven. Eyebright's
fits of temper, big and little, usually ended in this way. She had none
of that dislike of