t the door of the house, when she began to
laugh, and forgetting all about her poor baby, sprang to her arms,
looking very much like a dear little baby herself.

"The next day was Sunday. Tillie had been taught to keep it holy. She
never wanted to play with her dolls or toys, but liked to go to church
with her papa and mamma, and if she did not quite understand all that
the good minister said, she always sat very still. The naughty little
girl in the next pew would try her best to make Tillie laugh. She would
tie knots in the corners of her pocket handkerchief, and roll it into
the shape of a little fat man, and dance it up and down before her; but
Tillie would not laugh. Then she would twist her face all kinds of ways,
run out her tongue, and pretend to be biting the end of it off; but
Tillie never so much as smiled. She had been taught the ten commandments
by her loving mother, and she knew just as well as you or I what the
fourth commandment was, and how to keep it.

"Well, my little kittens, as I was telling you, it was Sunday--bright,
beautiful, but quite cold.

"As they went up stairs after breakfast to dress for church, Tillie's
aunt said, 'I believe I will wear my black and white blanket shawl, it
is so very cold.'

"When she came to take the great black-headed pins out and unfold
it--for it was still a big round roll of a baby--she found it was all
creased, and tumbled, and looked very bad.

"'Dear me!' said she to herself, 'I ought to have looked at this last
night. It was very careless in me.'

"She stood thinking a moment, then went down stairs into the kitchen,
and put an iron on the fire. She meant to press out the shawl herself,
as the servants might object to ironing on Sunday.

"I am sorry to think that you will know by this that Tillie's aunt did
not think of God's holy day and His commandment, as she ought to have
done.

"Pretty soon the iron was quite hot. She got out the skirt board, which
had been put away in the closet, spread her shawl out smooth, and began
to press it back and forth with the hot iron.

"Her back was turned to the open door, and she was so busy over her
shawl, that she never heard some tiny little pattering footsteps coming
down the stairs; or saw a sweet little child now standing in the
doorway.

"It was Tillie, with an expression on her face, half astonishment and
half sorrow.

"She looked on for a moment in silence, while the hot iron went back and
forth, back a