But whatever bad habits Susan had, that of being cross, or ill-humoured, was not one of them. Some girls would have answered impatiently, or have sulked out of the kitchen; but Susan bustled about for her brush and shovel, and said cheerfully, "It's never too late to mend, mother; I'm now going to turn over a new leaf, and you will see how famously I shall get on in the house; almost as well as you do." She ran up-stairs singing as she went, and swept the rooms as she said to herself "in no time"; only stopping once to close the rent in her frock with two large pins, in order to make it more 66 respectable."

Susan was the eldest child of honest, hardworking parents. She was a pleasant, cheerfullooking girl, with a healthful colour in her cheeks; very brisk in all her movements, and not at all inclined to make troubles of trifles. Her mother, although not a general laundress, was in the habit of getting up collars and other fine things for one or two families; and while thus engaged, she found Susan a great help in the house, especially now that there was a baby to take care of. Indeed, Susan's usefulness had made her leave school sooner than she would otherwise have done, so that she was not quite so forward with her learning as some girls at her age; but being naturally quick, and very fond of reading, she managed to gain a good bit of knowledge in spare moments. "Where there is a will there is generally a way." Her father and mother were both more intelligent than most persons in their station of life; and their children were growing up with the same tastes.

Mrs. Anderson was not only a kind and care

ful, but she was also a Christian mother. She tried to guide her little ones to the Saviour, and to train them for heaven as well as for earth. Her prayers for them were many and fervent; ah, and for her husband, too; for Mr. Anderson, though a steady and industrious man, had never really begun to serve Christ. He had great confidence in his wife, and he always let her do and say just as she pleased; but he was not one in heart with her about religion.

Susan had two sisters and four brothers. Robert, the next to her in size, was at work with their father, learning his business. He had much of Susan's pleasantness and good humour, with but little of her steadiness and right principle. He was too apt to be led by others, even when he knew they were wrong, simply because he had not courage enough to say "No." Are there not many boys like him? Perhaps some one who is reading this story feels that he is? Then a very wise and celebrated king has left this advice on

purpose for him: " My son, if sinners entice

thee, consent thou not."

Fanny came next. She was much prettier and much cleverer than her sister, but she was neither so active nor so even-tempered. She was often cross, almost always dissatisfied. It took very little, as her brothers said, to put her "out of sorts." She had got into the way-and if you have ever tried it you will say that it is a very bad way of wishing for things which she had not got, and which she was never likely to get; and then, because she could not have them, she was discontented and unthankful. It is just possible that there are some girls looking at this very page, who are not much wiser in this re

spect than Fanny? I wonder whether they ever read such a verse as this; Haying food and raiment, let us therewith be content'

Her twin brothers, Henry and John, who were always called, by everybody who knew them, Harry and Johnny, were some years younger, and were about as noisy, as troublesome, and as amusing, as children generally are at their age,

Between them and the baby was a gentle, lighthaired little creature, named Margaret. But she was hardly ever called " Margaret"; her usual title, both at home and at school, was the pretty one of "Daisy." She had been named after a young lady with whose family Mrs. Anderson had lived as nurse before she was married; and as Miss Margaret Dalton, when she was a child, used to be called "Daisy," it was very natural that the little Margaret should be distinguished in the same way. And simple and modest as she was, with a quiet cheerfulness about her, and a soft pink colour in her fair cheeks, she might easily remind you of the pretty little field flower.

The pet and plaything of the family was Willie, the baby. He was a sturdy little fellow, with a face like a full moon, and a smile as bright as sunshine.

And now we may go back to Susan, whom we left sweeping the bedrooms. Her mother was going out, to stay until the evening with an old lady who was ill, and whose daughter was obliged to leave her for some hours; and Fanny was spending the day with Jane Hilton (one of her schoolfellows), it being Jane's birthday; so that Susan was left in sole charge of the house and household, and she was careful and managing enough to be thus trusted.

She

cleaned the kitchen fireplace and hearth, and pared the potatoes, while "baby" was asleep; and when he woke up, she nursed him, and talked to him; and laid the cloth ready for dinner, against her father and the children came in, with one hand, while she held him with the other arm. A clever, notable little housewife was Susan; and she bid fair to make a good servant, if-if what?-if she only learnt to act out her mother's favourite adage that " a stitch in time saves nine."

It was strange, almost provoking, Susan thought, that this tiresome old proverb was so soon repeated again in her hearing, and for her benefit. It seemed to have been made by somebody on purpose for her!

"Look here Susie!" said her father, stretching out his arm, and displaying his shirt sleeve when he came in to dinner, "this button-hole I told you of last time I wore it, has given way altogether now, and I can't keep the wristband fastened anyhow. A stitch in time would have saved nine,' Susan."

6

And what did Susan say in reply? Why, she said what girls often about such say things, "Oh, those tiresome shirts! what an endless trouble they are!" And then she goodtemperedly fetched her needle and thimble, and sewed the ends of the wristband together, in order that her father might be both more tidy and more comfortable. A kiss was her payment; and Susan had forgotten both the button-hole and the proverb too before she had reached the other end of the kitchen! It is possible sometimes to be a little too easy about things.

The dinner-table was cleared; the children

sent to school; the kettle put over the fire; and Susan and baby were once more alone in the house; and then the young housekeeper drew a chair to the window, and sat down,-to mend her frock? This is what ought to be added, dear reader, but it cannot be truthfully added; for instead of her needle and thread, Susan took a book out of a drawer, and began to read it! She had not forgotten the rent in her dress; oh, no; and she intended to patch it before tea-time; yes, she certainly would; but she did so want to read this story which cousin Lucy had lent her, and which was said to be the prettiest story ever written; and baby was now quiet on the rug with his toys. It was such a nice opportunity, one that she might not have again all that day; so Susan yielded to the temptation, and the time passed away only too rapidly while she was thus pleasantly occupied. How long she would have sat there is doubtful, had not baby grown tired and restless, and refused to allow his sister any peace until she took him up, and tossed him in her arms, and amused him in various little ways. But while doing this, he suddenly set up a loud scream, and upon trying to find out the reason, Susan discovered that his little leg had been scratched by one of the pins which was sticking half-out of her torn skirt. Ah, if Susan had only mended it! With the cry of “Oh, those tiresome pins!" Susan drew them quickly forth, and threw them on the table; and then, kissing the crying child, set to work to comfort him in the best way that she could. When all the tears were wiped away, Susan put on his hat and carried him into the garden for a little change.