"You generally do," said Richard; "no one else could do half what you do."

"So you have said, papa, and all of you, till you have spoilt me. I have thought it myself, Ritchie."

"It is true," said Richard.

"But then," said Margaret, "I have grown to think much of it, and not like to be interfered with. I thought I could manage by myself, and when I said I would not worry papa, it was half because I liked the doing and settling all about the children myself. Oh! if it could have been visited in any way but by poor Tom's faults!"

"Well," said Richard, "if you felt so, it was a pity, though I never should have guessed it. But you see you will never feel so again, and as Tom is only one, and there are nine to govern, it is all for the best."

His deliberate common-sense made her laugh a little, and she owned he might be right. "It is a good lesson against my love of being first. But indeed it is difficult--papa can so little bear to be harassed."

"He could not at first, but now he is strong and well, it is different."

"He looks terribly thin and worn still," sighed Margaret, "so much older!"

"Ay, I think he will never get back his young looks; but except his weak arm, he is quite well."

"And then his--his quick way of speaking may do harm."

"Yes, that was what I feared for Tom," said Richard, "and there was the mistake. I see it now. My father always is right in the main, though he is apt to frighten one at first, and it is what ought to be that he should rule his own house. But now, Margaret, it is silly to worry about it any more--let me fetch baby, and don't think of it."

And Margaret allowed his reasonableness, and let herself be comforted.

After all, Richard's solid soberness had more influence over her than anything else.

CHAPTER XX.

Think how simple things and lowly, Have a part in Nature's plan, How the great hath small beginnings, And the child will be a man.

Little efforts work great actions, Lessons in our childhood taught Mould the spirit of that temper Whereby blessed deeds are wrought.

Cherish, then, the gifts of childhood, Use them gently, guard them well, For their future growth and greatness Who can measure, who can tell!

MORAL SONGS.

The first shock of Tom's misdemeanour passed away, though it still gave many an anxious thought to such of the family as felt responsible for him.

The girls were busily engaged in preparing an Easter feast for Cocksmoor. Mr. Wilmot was to examine the scholars, and buns and tea were provided, in addition to which Ethel designed to make a present to every one--a great task, considering that the Cocksmoor funds were reserved for absolute necessaries, and were at a very low ebb. So that twenty-five gifts were to be composed out of nothing!

There was a grand turn-out of drawers of rubbish, all over Margaret, raising such a cloud of dust as nearly choked her. What cannot rubbish and willing hands effect! Envelopes and wafer boxes were ornamented with pictures, bags, needle-cases, and pincushions, beautiful balls, tippets, both of list and gay print, and even sun-bonnets and pinafores were contrived, to the supreme importance and delight of Mary and Blanche, who found it as good or better than play, and ranged their performances in rows, till the room looked like a bazaar. To provide for boys was more difficult; but Richard mended old toys, and repaired the frames of slates, and Norman's contribution of half-a-crown bought mugs, marbles, and penny knives, and there were even hopes that something would remain for bodkins, to serve as nozzles to the bellows, which were the pride of Blanche's heart.

Never were Easter gifts the source of more pleasure to the givers, especially when the nursery establishment met Dr. Hoxton near the pastrycook's shop, and he bestowed on Blanche a packet of variegated sugar-plums, all of which she literally poured out at Ethel's feet, saying, "I don't want them. Only let me have one for Aubrey, because he is so little. All the rest are for the poor children at Cocksmoor."

After this, Margaret declared that Blanche must be allowed to buy the bodkin, and give her bellows to Jane Taylor, the only Cocksmoor child she knew, and to whom she always destined in turn every gift that she thought most successful.

So Blanche went with Flora to the toy-shop, and there fell in love with a little writing-box, that so eclipsed the bellows, that she tried to persuade Flora to buy it for Jane Taylor, to be kept till she could write, and was much disappointed to hear that it was out of the question. Just then a carriage stopped, and from it stepped the pretty little figure of Meta Rivers.

"Oh! how do you do? How delightful to meet you! I was wondering if we should! Little Blanche too!" kissing her, "and here's Mrs. Larpent--Mrs.

Larpent--Miss Flora May. How is Miss May?"

This was all uttered in eager delight, and Flora, equally pleased, answered the inquiries. "I hope you are not in a hurry," proceeded Meta; "I want your advice. You know all about schools, don't you? I am come to get some Easter presents for our children, and I am sure you can help me."

"Are the children little or big?" asked Flora.

"Oh! all sorts and sizes. I have some books for the great sensible ones, and some stockings and shoes for the tiresome stupid ones, but there are some dear little pets that I want nice things for. There--there's a doll that looks just fit for little curly-headed Annie Langley, don't you think so, Mrs. Larpent?"

The price of the doll was a shilling, and there were quickly added to it, boxes of toys, elaborate bead-work pincushions, polished blue and green boxes, the identical writing-case--even a small Noah's ark. Meta hardly asked the prices, which certainly were not extravagant, since she had nearly twenty articles for little more than a pound.

"Papa has given me a benefaction of 5 for my school-gifts," said she, "is not that charming? I wish you would come to the feast. Now, do! It is on Easter Tuesday. Won't you come?"

"Thank you, I am afraid we can't. I should like it very much."

"You never will come to me. You have no compassion."

"We should enjoy coming very much. Perhaps, in the summer, when Margaret is better."

"Could not she spare any of you? Well, I shall talk to papa, and make him talk to Dr. May. Mrs. Larpent will tell you I always get my way.

Don't I? Good-bye. See if I don't."

She departed, and Flora returned to her own business; but Blanche's interest was gone. Dazzled by the more lavish gifts, she looked listlessly and disdainfully at bodkins, three for twopence. "I wish I might have bought the writing-box for Janet Taylor! Why does not papa give us money to get pretty things for the children?" said she, as soon as they came out.

"Because he is not so rich as Miss Rivers's papa."

Flora was interrupted by meeting the Misses Anderson, who asked, "Was not that carriage Mr. Rivers's of Abbotstoke Grange?"

"Yes. We like Miss Rivers very much," said Flora, resolved to show that she was acquainted.

"Oh! do you visit her? I knew he was a patient of Dr. May." Flora thought there was no need to tell that the only call had been owing to the rain, and continued, "She has been begging us to come to her school feast, but I do not think we can manage it."

"Oh, indeed! the Grange is very beautiful, is it not?"

"Very," said Flora. "Good-morning."

Flora had a little uneasiness in her conscience, but it was satisfactory to have put down Louisa Anderson, who never could aspire to an intimacy with Miss Rivers. Her little sister looked up--"Why, Flora, have you seen the Grange?"

"No, but papa and Norman said so."

And Blanche showed that the practical lesson on the pomps of the world was not lost on her, by beginning to wish they were as rich as Miss Rivers. Flora told her it was wrong to be discontented, but the answer was, "I don't want it for myself, I want to have pretty things to give away."

And her mind could not be turned from the thought by any attempt of her sister. Even when they met Dr. May coming out of the hospital, Blanche renewed the subject. She poured out the catalogue of Miss Rivers's purchases, making appealing attempts at looking under his spectacles into his eyes, and he perfectly understood the tenor of her song.

"I have had a sight, too, of little maidens preparing Easter gifts,"

said he.

"Have you, papa? What were they? Were they as nice as Miss Rivers's?"