Graham for her kindness, and promised to follow her advice. She hastened home with the cotton, to do all she could to make up for lost time. But, as an old writer says, "you may run all day after a lost hour, but you will never be able to catch it." It was but very little work she could do before her mother returned. Of course the shirt was not finished, and Katie had the pain of seeing her mother, fatigued as she was after her hard day's work, obliged to sit up until very late, to make up for her daughter's idleness and neglect. "Oh, mother, mother!" cried Katie, as Mrs. Lawrence, pale and weary, passed through her daughter's room at a late hour, on her way to bed. "Oh, mother, mother, I will never behave so again. I have prayed to God to help me to do better for the future." "God bless you, dear Katie," said her kind mother, "and give you strength to keep your resolution." CHAPTER II The Happiness of Hazelbrook ABOUT two miles from the village of Hazelbrook by the road, but a much shorter distance across the fields, stood a fine old mansion, surrounded by an extensive park. The deer bounded across the greensward, or grazed peacefully beneath the shade of stately elms, and a populous colony of rooks cawed noisily from the summit of the tall dark fir trees at the back of the house. Hazelbrook Hollow, as it was called, was a very ancient place. And report said that the old hall, and part of one wing of the building, dated so far back as the time of William the Conqueror. A fine avenue of elms led to the house, from the garden front of which grassy terraces extended, one below the other, to a clear, bright sheet of water. This miniature lake was bounded on one side by a beautiful grassy walk, hedged in by gigantic rhododendrons, which in the early summer presented a splendid show of bright blossoms. On the opposite side of the lake, a thick yew hedge was cut at intervals into various quaint devices, and in an open glade stood a gray, moss-grown sun-dial. Several fine swans sailed majestically on the water, forming a scene of quiet and peaceful beauty for which the "stately homes of England" are so remarkable. Sir Herbert Tracy, the owner of Hazelbrook Hollow, was still in the prime of life. He had lived a great deal abroad on account of his wife's delicate health, which obliged her to winter in a warm climate. But of late, she had become so much stronger that she had already passed one winter at Hazelbrook, and had felt no ill effects from it. Sir Herbert and Lady Tracy had had several children, but they all died in their infancy, with the exception of a son and daughter. Young Herbert Tracy was in his eighteenth year, and was finishing his studies at Cambridge. His sister Mabel was younger. It was a source of great happiness to Sir Herbert and his wife to feel that they might be able to live at Hazelbrook. They were most anxious that both Herbert and Mabel should early learn to care for their poorer neighbours. Herbert Tracy was a son of whom any parent might feel proud, and little fairy-like, gentle Mabel was, as old Granny Hale called her, "the happiness of Hazelbrook." Not a cottage for miles round but was gladdened by a visit from Mabel, especially when the shadow of sickness or sorrow had fallen. It is easy for rich people to give a sum of money, but they are not always so liberal of their time; and it is most true that, in many instances, an hour's reading to a blind woman, or a half-hour's soothing talk with some troubled spirit, is far more valued than a gift of money would be. Mabel always made a point of spending an hour on Sunday afternoon with Nelly Lawrence, and these visits were the brightest spots in Nelly's life, and looked forward to with delight. It was Easter Sunday—a bright and beautiful morning, not a breath of wind was stirring nor a cloud flitting across the deep blue sky. The birds were singing gaily, the bees were humming in the sunshine, and the air was filled with a sweet scent of spring flowers. As Mabel Tracy walked across the fragrant meadows leading from Hazelbrook Hollow to Mrs. Lawrence's cottage, her young heart glowed with love and gratitude to the Almighty Creator of this beautiful world, who had given her so much to enjoy. A bright flush of pleasure flitted across Nelly's face as Mabel entered the cottage. "Good morning, Nelly; how are you to-day?" "Much the same, thank you, Miss Mabel, but so glad to see you. Mother said she thought you would not come until the afternoon to-day, and so I did not expect you so early." "I came as soon as I could, Nelly, for I thought I should like to bring you a spring nosegay this fine Easter morning." And as Mabel spoke, she put a bunch of delicate spring flowers into Nelly's hands. "Oh, thank you, thank you," said the child, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "They are very beautiful, are they not, Nelly? And dear mamma has made me think them more so than ever this morning, by showing me what a good lesson spring flowers may teach us if we think rightly about them." Nelly looked puzzled, as if she did not quite understand what Mabel meant. "Mamma reminded me," continued Mabel, "that if I had looked in the garden during the winter months, I should have sought in vain for these sweet flowers; yet all the while the root was in the ground alive, and the leaves and blossoms were ready to burst out from it as soon as ever the warm weather came. Just so our bodies, when lying in the grave, are like flowers in winter; they are hidden, and are apparently dead, but at the resurrection, they will rise again into new life. "And then again, Nelly, you know all plants come first from seeds, and the seed when put into the ground dies, and from its death come the plant and flower; but the flower is far more beautiful than the seed; and thus at the resurrection our glorified bodies will be far more beautiful than our present ones." "And there will be no sickness then," said Nelly, sighing. "No, Nelly, our bodies then will be free from all sickness and death. They will dwell in a land where 'there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.'" "Is it very wrong, Miss Mabel, to feel a little discontented sometimes? I have never before thought of what you have told me to-day, but I will try to do so when I feel lonely and dull. I so often wish I could help mother; it is that which makes me murmur at being so long ill. I seem as if I shouldn't so much mind for myself, but when I see mother with so much more to do than she has strength to get through, I cannot help wishing that God would make me strong and well." "I do not wonder at your feeling so, dear Nelly, and yet you should pray for strength to strive against such feelings. Dear papa was reading to me in a book yesterday, that 'every moment brings its mercies,' and that mercies ought therefore to bring content. You have many mercies, Nelly, if you only set yourself to look for them. Think what a blessing it is to have so good a mother as you have; and how many poor children there are who have not so many home comforts as you possess! "Our gardener was telling mamma, yesterday, of a poor little gipsy child who died of some fever out on the heath beyond the forest, and who had no other shelter than a poor tent, and no bed but some straw on the damp ground. Another great blessing, which you would value more if you had been abroad as much as I have, is the being born and living in dear happy England. Many years ago, my dear mamma gave me a beautiful hymn to learn, and I have never forgotten it." "Can you say it now, Miss Mabel?" "I think I can, Nelly; at all events, I will try." Mabel then repeated the favourite hymn, beginning— "I thank the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled, And made me, in these Christian days, A happy English child." "I like that hymn very much," said Nelly. "When you were abroad, Miss Mabel, did you ever go to those countries where people bow down to blocks of wood and stone?" "No, Nelly, those countries are a great way off; but I have been in countries much nearer home, where people profess to worship the true God, and yet pray to pictures and images of saints, as they call them, to intercede for them with God. And you know, Nelly dear, there is only one way of getting to God, and that is—" "Through Jesus Christ, our Lord," whispered Nelly. "Right, Nelly. 'No man cometh unto the Father, but by "Me"'—these are our Saviour's own words. And yet, in Roman Catholic countries, people pray to the Virgin Mary, and to others who were weak and sinful human beings like the rest of mankind, and who needed God's grace and Christ's blood to save their souls." "Please go on, Miss Mabel." "Our peaceful, happy English Sabbaths, Nelly, how often have I longed for them! And have thought that if I could but hear our village church bell ringing, it would be to me like sounds of music. In France, Sunday is like a noisy fair day; the people go to mass in the morning, and then spend the rest of the day in amusements of all kinds. It was impossible even to go from the house where we lived to the English place of worship without passing through scenes which made one shudder. Music, singing, dancing, shows of all kinds; and all on that day which God has commanded us to remember and keep holy. Oh we have very, very much to be thankful for," continued Mabel; "let us be grateful for the present, and trust in God for the future. "I must go now, Nelly; when I come again, I will try and tell you a beautiful story which papa gave me to read the other day." CHAPTER III Going to the Fair KATIE LAWRENCE was much steadier for some time after the day on which she lost the reel of cotton, and her mother began to hope that she had really turned over a new leaf. Mrs. Lawrence had a great deal of plain sewing to do, and found Katie a real help to her. One morning, however, she received a message which obliged her to go directly to Hazelbrook Hollow, to take an order for some needlework from a lady who was staying there on a visit. She left Katie some work to do in her absence, and the day being hot and sultry, she told her she might sit in a little arbour in the garden if she preferred it. This arbour had been made by Ben, who was very proud, and not without cause, of his work. It was formed of thin ash branches, bent over to form an arch, and was covered with gay scarlet runners, now in full bloom. Katie delighted in this bower, and was glad at her mother's permission to work there. Nelly had occasionally been able to recline on some pillows in the arbour, but for some days past, the invalid child had been suffering more pain than usual, and could not leave her
