said mamma, "put the pennies in this, – fifteen of Maggie's and twelve of Bessie's make twenty-seven. Pretty well for a beginning. All the money you earn may go in this."
"And the glove money too, mamma?" asked Maggie.
"No, not the glove money. I shall keep that, and at the end of each month will give you what remains to put in the box."
"And you will keep it, mamma?"
"Yes, there it is in the corner of this drawer. You may come and take it when you want to put anything in it."
"Papa," said Bessie at dessert that day, "will you please take the fretful off my peach. I can't eat it so."
Bessie could never bear to eat or even touch a peach unless all the furze or down which grew upon it had been rubbed off, and the restless, uncomfortable feeling it gave her made her call it "the fretful."
Mr. Bradford took a peach from his little girl's plate, and as he rubbed it smooth, said to his wife, "Margaret, my dear, peaches are very plenty and very fine, and I, you know, am very fond of peach preserves."
"Very well," said Mrs. Bradford, "I will put up as many as you choose to send home."
Bessie heard, and a new thought came into her little head.
"Mamma," she said a while after, when she could speak to her mother alone, – "mamma, you told Papa you would make a great many peach preserves for him."
"Yes, dear."
"And, mamma, you know he likes the inside of peach-stones in the preserves."
"The kernel, you mean."
"Yes'm, and last summer Harry kept all the peach-stones and cracked them for you, and you paid him for them. Could you let me do it this time?"
"My darling, you would crack those little fingers; it is too hard work for you."
Bessie looked very much disappointed, and her mother could not bear to see it, for she knew how anxious she was to earn money for the library.
"You may gather up the peach-stones, dear, and dry them, and Patrick shall crack them for you, and I will pay you five cents for every hundred."
"Oh! thank you, mamma; that is very nice, and I will put away every one I can find."
And from this day it was quite amusing to their papa and mamma to see how carefully Maggie and Bessie guarded every peach-stone they could find; and to hear them constantly talking over plans to gain a few pennies to add to their store.
"Margaret," said Mr. Bradford to his wife that evening, "would it not be better for you to lock up that money-box of the children?"
"I think not," said Mrs. Bradford. "They will want it half a dozen times a day. You know how such little things are, and they will always be counting their money. I believe every one we have in the house is quite honest, and the box cannot well be opened by one who does not know the secret of the spring."
So the box was not locked up; but the time came when Mrs. Bradford was very sorry she had not taken her husband's advice.
III.
THE MISER
"FRED," said Harry, as the little sisters came into the breakfast-room the next morning, – "Fred, what have you done with my new top?"
"I declare," said Fred, after thinking a moment, "I do not know."
"That's what a fellow gets for lending you his things," said Harry, crossly; "you never give them back, and never know where you leave them. I sha'n't let you have anything of mine again in a hurry."
"I know where it is, Harry," said Maggie. "I'll bring it to you. I saw it last night."
And away ran Maggie, always ready and willing to oblige; but as she reached the door, she stood still with the knob in her hand. "Harry, if I go for it, will you give me a penny?"
"Well," said Harry, "no, I will not."
"If you don't choose to go for it, tell me where it is, and I will go myself," said Fred.
But Maggie went without another word, and came back with the top in her hand.
"There's your penny," said Harry, throwing one on the table.
"That's as mean a thing as ever I knew," said Fred, "to want to be paid for going upstairs for a fellow who has a sprained leg and can't go for himself. You know mamma said he must not go up and down much till his ankle was well."
"I'd have thought anybody would have done such a thing sooner than you, Maggie," said Harry, reproachfully.
Maggie stood with crimson cheeks and a shaking lip. "I sha'n't have the penny!" she said, angrily. But just then papa and mamma came in and the bell was rung for morning prayers, which prevented any farther quarrelling.
But Maggie's troubles were not yet at an end for that morning. Breakfast was over, mamma gone to the nursery, papa to his library, and the children were alone in the breakfast-room.
"Midget," said Harry, "you know that pink fluted shell of yours?"
"Yes," answered Maggie.
"If you'll give it to me, I'll give you any two of mine you may choose."
"Oh, Harry, I can't! Aunt Annie gave me that shell, and I want to keep it for memory of her. Besides, it's my prettiest shell."
"Aunt Annie isn't dead," said Harry. "You don't keep a thing in memory of a person unless they're dead."
"She'll die one of these days," said Maggie; "every one has to die sometime, and I'll keep it till then. But I meant I wanted it because she gave it to me, Harry, and I can't let you have it." But presently, having forgotten about the penny, and thinking of the library box, Maggie added, "I'll give it to you for ten cents, Harry."
"Indeed, I shall not give ten cents for it!" said Harry. "It's not worth it and – why, Mag, you are growing as mean as, – as mean as – " Harry stopped, for he saw Maggie's color rising and the tears coming in her eyes, and he was not an unkind boy, who would willingly hurt or grieve his little sisters.
"She is a real miser," said Fred.
Poor Maggie! This was too much, and she burst into tears.
"Don't cry, Maggie," said Harry. "I did not mean to hurt you, but I do not know what to make of you."
"What's all this wonderful fuss about money, Bessie?" asked Fred.
"Ask me no lies, and I'll tell you no questions," said Bessie, holding up her head and looking at her brothers with a grave, reproving air, "You talk very unproperly to my Maggie."
At this, the boys shouted and laughed so loud and so long that Bessie felt as badly as her sister, and saying, "Let's go away, Maggie," they ran off.
When Mr. Bradford came out of his room, he saw his little girls sitting at the head of the stairs looking very unhappy. Maggie had been crying; Bessie had her arm around her waist, as though she were trying to comfort her, but looked as if she wanted comfort herself.
"Why, what ails my singing birdies
