knew that she was thinking of such a sacrifice, and it was rather a consolation to have mamma speaking of it in this way.
"Moral courage" sounded very fine.
But she sat silent, slowly eating her omelet and biscuit, and feeling that she had not quite made up her mind how far the sacrifice must go, or how much of her work she should decide to give up. But one thing she had fully resolved, – that her studies should no longer interfere with what papa called "nearer and plainer duties," or cause needless injury to her health and temper. She would help mamma, play with the children, walk and run as other little girls of her age did, and try hard to put from her all rebellious and impatient feelings at not being quite so clever as some among her schoolmates.
"Mamma," she said, after another pause, during which she had finished her breakfast, – "mamma, how much do you think it would be wise for me to study every day?"
"Well," said Mrs. Ransom slowly, and as if she knew that she was about to give advice that would not be quite agreeable, "if you wish to know what I think wisest, I should say give up study altogether for at least a fortnight."
"For a whole fortnight, two weeks, mamma?" echoed Nellie, in dismay. She had expected that her mother would say she might well study two hours a day, hoped for three, wished that it might be four, and had resolved to be content with the allowance proposed; but to give up her books altogether for two weeks! "It seems such a waste of time for such a great girl as me, mamma," she added.
"Well, my great girl of ten years, suppose we say one week then," said Mrs. Ransom playfully. "Keep on with your practising as usual, and with your half-hour of sewing these with your new housekeeping duties will take up a good part of the morning without much 'waste of time,' I think; the rest of the day I would give entirely to play and amusement. If at the end of a week we do not find that you are feeling better and happier" —
"And not so cross," put in Nellie, with rather a shamefaced smile.
Her mother smiled, too, and took up her speech. "Then we will agree that my plan was not needful, and that all this constant poring over books does not hurt your health, your temper, or your mind."
"Yes, mamma," said Nellie, with a sigh she could not suppress, though she did try to speak cheerfully. Then she added, "O mamma, I should so like to be a very clever, bright girl, and to know a great deal!"
"A very good thing, Nellie, but not the first of all things, my daughter," said Mrs. Ransom, putting her arm about the waist of her little girl, who had risen and come over to her side.
"No, mamma," said Nellie softly, "and you think I have made it the first of all things lately, do you not?"
Before Mrs. Ransom could answer, sounds of woe came from the piazza without, Daisy's voice raised in trouble once more.
Tears and smiles both lay near the surface with Daisy, and had their way by turns. One moment she would be in the depth of despair, the next dimpling all over with laughter and frolic; so that Nellie did not fear any very serious disaster when she ran to see what the matter was.
The great misery of Daisy's life was this, – that people were always taking her for a boy, a mistake which she considered both unnatural and insulting, and which she always resented with all her little might.
Nellie found her sitting at the head of the piazza steps, crying aloud, with her straw hat pressed over her face by both hands.
"What's the matter, Daisy?" asked her sister.
"Oh! such a wicked butcher-man came to my house," answered Daisy, in smothered tones from beneath her hat.
"What did he do? What makes him wicked?" asked Nellie.
"He sweared at me," moaned Daisy; "oh! he sweared dreadful at me."
"Did he?" said Nellie, much shocked.
"Yes," said Daisy, removing the hat so far that she was able to peep out with one eye at her sister, "he did. He called me 'Bub,' and I'm not a bub, now."
Nellie was far from wishing to wound Daisy's feelings afresh; but this mild specimen of swearing struck her as so intensely funny that she could not keep back a peal of laughter, – a peal so merry and hearty that it rejoiced her mother's heart, who had not heard Nellie laugh like that for several weeks.
Daisy's tears redoubled at this. She had expected sympathy and indignation from Nellie, and here she was actually laughing.
"You oughtn't to laugh," she said resentfully; "it is very naughty to swear bad names at little girls, and I shan't eat the meat that bad butcher-man brought."
Nellie sat down beside the insulted little one, and, smothering her laughter, said coaxingly, —
"I wouldn't mind that, Daisy. Here, dry your eyes."
"Yes, you would," sobbed Daisy, taking down the hat, but rejecting the pocket handkerchief her sister offered; "I have a potterhancher of my own in my pottet;" and she pulled out the ten-inch square article in question, and mournfully obeyed Nellie's directions.
"He called me a fellow too, and he ought to see I don't wear boys' clothes," she added.
"How did he come to be talking to you?" asked Nellie, trying to keep a grave face. "What were you doing?"
"I was very good and nice, just sitting on the grass, and making a wreaf of some clovers Carrie gave me," explained Daisy, piteously, "and he brought the meat in, and said, 'Good-morning, bub; you're a nice little fellow!' and I'm not, now."
"Here he comes again," said Nellie, as a jolly, good-natured-looking butcher's boy came around from the other side of the house.
"I shan't let him see me," cried Daisy, and, scrambling to her feet, she rushed into the house before the disturber of her peace came near her again.
A moment later Nellie heard her rippling laugh over some trifle which had taken her attention, and she knew that the April shower was over, and sunshine restored.
This little incident had so diverted Nellie's thoughts, and amused her so much, that for the time she forgot the subject of the conversation with her mother, which had been so abruptly broken off; and when she returned to her, she laughed merrily again as she related the cause of Daisy's trouble, and her indignation at having been taken for a boy.
Mrs. Ransom did not return to it. She thought that enough had been said, and she agreed with her husband in thinking that Nellie would feel a certain satisfaction in believing she exercised her own will and judgment in the matter.
"Here are the keys, dear," she said, when she and Nellie had laughed over Daisy's tribulations; "and it is time Catherine had her orders for the day. Go first to the kitchen and tell her" – and here Mrs. Ransom gave Nellie the necessary directions, which she in her turn was to repeat to the cook. Then she was to ask the woman what was needed from the store-room, and to give out such things.
"What's Nellie going to do?" asked Carrie, who had come in, and stood listening while her mother gave Nellie her directions.
"I'm going to be mamma's housekeeper," said Nellie, feeling at least a head taller with the importance of all this responsibility.
"Oh!" said Carrie, looking at her with admiration, and quite as much impressed as she was expected to be.
"You can come with me, and see me, if you want to," said Nellie.
"And
