and tears came to her eyes.

"My little daughter, I am deeply pained!"

Some way the story came out, and Bertha sobbed away her mortified
feeling.

[Illustration: _Grandma's Early Home in the Wilderness._]

"My dear Bertha!" her mother said, "I am disappointed to see you show so
little true courage and warmth of heart. Ada Wilson has certainly shown
herself very ill-bred and heartless in thus criticising so old a person
to one of her own relatives. I am not sure but it would be better to
decline the invitation altogether."

"O mother! I do not think Ada meant any real harm. She laughs at the
girls, and mimics everybody; but she's real good and generous, for all
that. And grandma does make mistakes."

"But even if she does, Bertha, when you are tempted to despise your dear
old grandmother, I want you to think of her life. When she was a little
girl, twelve years old, she went to work in a mill, to help her mother
take care of her younger brothers and sisters, and then afterward she
took the whole charge of the family upon herself.

"Fifty-three years ago she married a plain farmer, and went West, into
what was a wilderness at that time. In her turn, she was left a widow,
with a large family, and I shall always honor her for the wisdom she
displayed. It would be hard to find four better men than your uncles and
papa.

"Aunt Bessy was poor and had a great deal of trouble, but grandma staid
with her to the very last, and now she has come to me. I really don't
know what I should do without her, and her life has been most
praiseworthy in every respect. She would give her life for any of us.
Suppose she were cross and fretful, and thought, as some old ladies do,
that we ought to work every moment, and never take a bit of pleasant
recreation.

"Instead of this, she is a genial, tender-hearted woman, serving God and
doing good every day of her life, and I am sure Mrs. Bell honors her.

"Suppose, Bertha, that I began to fret at her old-fashioned ways, the
caps she loves to wear, and the manner in which she expresses herself?
It would make her nervous and timid, and if she thought we were growing
ashamed of her, I really believe her heart would break. Would you be
willing to give her such a wound?"

"Oh, no," returned Bertha, sobbing. "Dear grandmother."

"I think the commandment to honor one's father and mother takes in
one's grandparents equally. And, most of all, I want to see my little
daughter brave enough to r