ord left unspoken, every peevish complaint hushed, was as
real a victory as though we had done some great thing. 'If we must
suffer,' he said, 'at least let us suffer quietly, and not spend our
breath in fruitless complaint. People will avoid a fretful person as
though they were plague-tainted; and why? because they trouble the very
atmosphere round them, and no one can enjoy peace in their
neighborhood.'"

"I am sure Mr. Robertson must have meant me, Bessie."

"No, darling, no; I won't have you exaggerate or judge yourself too
harshly. You are not always cross, or we should not be so fond of you.
You make us sad sometimes, when you sit apart, brooding over some
imaginary grievance; that is why father calls you Little Miss
Much-Afraid."

"Yes, you all laugh at me, but indeed the darkness is very real.
Sometimes I wonder why I have been sent into the world, if I am not to
be happy myself, nor to make other people happy. You are like a sunbeam
yourself, Bessie, and so you hardly understand what I mean."

"Oh, yes, I do; but I never see any good in putting questions that we
cannot answer; only I am quite sure you have your duty to do, quite as
much as I have mine, only you have not found it out."

"Perhaps I am the thorn in the flesh to discipline you all into
patience," returned Hatty quaintly, for she was not without humor.

"Very well, then, my thorn; fulfil your mission," returned Bessie,
kissing her. "But I cannot keep awake and speak words of wisdom any
longer." And she scrambled over the bed, and with another cheerful
"good-night," vanished; but Hatty's troubled thoughts were lulled by
sisterly sympathy, and she soon slept peacefully. Late as it was before
Bessie laid her weary head on the pillow beside her sleeping sister, it
was long before her eyes closed and she sunk into utter forgetfulness.
Her mind seemed crowded with vague images and disconnected thoughts.
Recollections of the hours spent in Sheen Valley, the weird effect of
the dusky figures passing and repassing in the dim, uncertain light, the
faint streaks of light across the snow, the dull winter sky, the eager
welcome of the lonely girl, the long friendly talk ripening into budding
intimacy, all passed vividly before her, followed by Hatty's artless
confession.

"Poor little thing!" thought Bessie compassionately, for there was a
specially soft place in her heart for Hatty. She had always been her
particular charge. All Hatty's failures, her mi