ose conscience suddenly woke, and
smote her for beating down the woman who did her plain sewing, in order
that she might have an extra flounce on a new dress. "Belle has got a
virtuous fit; pity it won't last a week," said Trix.

"Wait and see," retorted Belle, resolving that it should last, just
to disappoint "that spiteful minx;" as she sweetly called her old
school-mate.

"Now we shall behold Belle galloping away at a great pace, on her new
hobby. I should n't be surprised to hear of her preaching in the jail,
adopting a nice dirty little orphan, or passing round tracts at a
Woman's Rights meeting," said Trix, who never could forgive Belle for
having a lovely complexion, and so much hair of her own that she never
patronized either rats, mice, waterfalls, switches, or puff-combs.

"Well, I might do worse; and I think, of the two, I 'd rather amuse
myself so, than as some young ladies do, who get into the papers for
their pranks," returned Belle, with a moral air.

"Suppose we have a little recess, and rest while Polly plays to us. Will
you, Polly? It will do us good; they all want to hear you, and begged I
'd ask."

"Then I will, with pleasure"; and Polly went to the piano with such
obliging readiness, that several reproachful glances fell upon Trix, who
did n't need her glass to see them.

Polly was never too sad, perturbed, or lazy to sing, for it was almost
as easy to her as breathing, and seemed the most natural outlet for her
emotions. For a minute her hands wandered over the keys, as if uncertain
what to play; then, falling into a sad, sweet strain, she sang "The
Bridge of Sighs." Polly did n't know why she chose it, but the instinct
seemed to have been a true one, for, old as the song was, it went
straight to the hearts of the hearers, and Polly sung it better than
she ever had before, for now the memory of little Jane lent it a tender
pathos which no art could give. It did them all good, for music is a
beautiful magician, and few can resist its power. The girls were touched
by the appeal; Polly was lifted out of herself, and when she turned
round, the softened look on all the faces told her that for the moment
foolish differences and frivolous beliefs were forgotten in the
one womanly sentiment of pity for the wrongs and woes of which the
listeners' happy lives were ignorant.

"That song always makes me cry, and feel as if I had no right to be so
comfortable," said Belle, openly wiping her eyes on a cr