Hatty Lee had been on a visit to her grandmother, and now she was coming home.

Mrs. Lee had hard work that morning to keep her young people in order, for Hatty was a favorite with her brothers and sister, and they were wild with delight at the idea of seeing her again.

Hatty was only ten years of age, and Marcus, her brother, thought because he was two years older he was almost a man, and quite able to give Hatty advice on all subjects. He pretended a great contempt for girls, but the fact was he had missed his little playmate sorely, and was full of glee at the thought of her return. He showed his pleasure in a noisy way that made the house not very comfortable for any one else.

Old Aunt Barbara had twice put her head out of her bed-room door, to tell him he was the “roughest, rudest boy in the world, and would drive her crazy if he did not behave himself;” but Marcus still ran up stairs, jumping up three steps at a time, with his heavy shoes, and sliding down the balusters, hallooing as he went, as if he were riding a race in an open meadow.

Meggy, a mischievous little girl of six, joined her shouts with those of Marcus, while Harry, her next brother, was busy collecting all his new playthings in the hall, that he might show them to “sister Hatty” as soon as she arrived.

As drums and trumpets were among his favorite toys, they of course had to be brought out, and thoroughly tried to prove that they were in perfect order.

While all this tumult was going on in the hall, Mrs. Lee was vainly trying to hush the continual cries of her little baby, who, though only five weeks old, seemed to have remarkably strong lungs for its age, and to promise to resemble the rest of the family in his willingness to use them.

Mrs. Lee was not very strong, and she was getting quite worn out with the screams of the baby, when old Aunt Barbara came stepping into the nursery, and declared that she was certain if she could take the child a moment, she could quiet it.

Aunt Barbara put the baby on her lap, and began to say to it some of the queer old rhymes she had heard in her childhood, seventy years ago. It is not likely that the baby understood aunt Barbara’s funny stories, and wanted to listen, but this is certain, it stopped crying, and soon closed its eyes and fell into a sweet sleep.

When there was silence in the nursery, the noise in the hall sounded all the louder. Mrs. Lee stepped to the door quickly, as if she were going to speak severely to the children, but something within her whispered that they had no idea of the pain their frolic was giving, and that it was joy about their sister’s return that made them so unusually full of glee. When Mrs. Lee reached the head of the stairs, her face had a sweet motherly expression, and before she spoke, she could not help smiling to see little Harry blowing away at his trumpet with all his might, and marching up and down the hall as if he were a fat little soldier on parade, while they jumped up and down, and screamed with delight, to see how fast Marcus could move on his smooth-backed horse.

Mrs. Lee knew that in their present state of mind it would be next to impossible to keep the children perfectly quiet, and she resolved to employ them about something, that they might not waste their energy in making a noise.

Marcus heard somebody at the head of the stairs, and he looked up with an expression of provoking mischief, as if ready to receive another scolding from aunt Barbara. When he saw his mother’s kind, pale face bending towards him, he felt a little ashamed of the thoughtlessness which had made him forget that her weak head might have suffered from what he called his “fun.”

“Well, Mother,” he said looking up cheerfully, “how soon do you think Hatty will come?”

“Not for an hour yet, my son,” said the mother, kindly; “and, meanwhile, I have something for you to do. I want you to sweep the pavement, from the door-step to the gate, that it may look neat and tidy to Hatty when she comes home.”

“Here, Meg, you go get me a broom, and I’ll set to work in a twinkling,” said Marcus, jumping down from the balusters, with a deafening stamp of his heavy shoes.

The sound seemed to touch every nerve in Mrs. Lee’s head, and she drew her eyebrows together with an expression of pain; but she only said, quietly “I must have a pair of slippers for you to wear in the house, Marcus, and then you can take off your shoes, when you come in, as your father does.”

“O that will be first-rate,” said Marcus, with delight. “I should like dog’s-heads for the pattern; won’t you begin them to-day, Mother?”

“I will make them as soon as I can,” said the mother, with a languid smile.

Meg now came running along the hall, carrying the broom by the brush end, while the handle went “knock, knock,” along the floor, keeping time to the skipping motion with which she generally moved.

Marcus seized the broom, and began to flourish it this way and that way, across the wide pavement, as if he meant to be rapid, if not particularly thorough, in his work.

“Now, Harry,” said Mrs. Lee, quietly, “mother wants you to make a nice fence with your blocks all round your playthings. Meg will get them for you.”

From a closet under the stairs Meg soon dragged out a box in which were Harry’s stores of blocks, playthings of which he never tired, and which never wore out.

The little fellow set to work very patiently; and then Mrs. Lee said, “Come, Meg, I will take you with me.” Meg gave her hand to her mother, and skipped up the stairs, ready to take in good part anything that should happen.

Mrs. Lee led her to a small room at the end of the hall, and said, “Now listen to me, my little darling. You are to sleep in here with Hatty, and she is to help you dress, and to be very kind to you. I want you to be very careful not to hurt any of Hatty’s things, and to mind her, when I am not with you. If you do as I say, you will be sure to get on well.”

Meg gave a little jump, and perched herself on the edge of the bed, as she said, “O how nice, Mother! I am so glad. It is a great deal pleasanter than being in the old nursery with Jane.”

“Don’t sit on the bed, Meggy,” said Mrs. Lee, helping the little thing gently down and smoothing the tumbled place she had made on the clean counterpane; “You know Hatty likes to keep her bed very nicely.”

“Hatty can’t lock the door now and say, ‘You can’t come in, Meg.’ It is my room, too, now,” said Meg, “and I shall have a right to come in.”

“I hope my little girls will get on very pleasantly together,” said Mrs. Lee, gently. “Jesus’ little children never quarrel, never speak bad, angry words.”

“Well, I won’t, Mother, if I can help it,” said Meg, and she put up her mouth to be kissed, as if that mother’s kiss could ensure her doing right.

While this conversation was going on up stairs, Marcus had stopped in the midst of his work, and was actually still, for a moment, while his face bore the marks of deep thought.

Marcus did not feel altogether comfortable about the way he had spoken to Aunt Barbara that morning; he knew he had done wrong, and that brought to his mind a letter his mother had received from Hatty during her absence. Hatty had written that she was very sorry for all the naughty things she had ever done, and that she had made up her mind to be one of Jesus’ little children, and that she believed He had forgiven her for all the past, and would help her to be a better girl. She sent much love to her brothers and sisters, and said she wanted them to forget every unkind word she had ever spoken to them, for she was very sorry, and never meant to do so again.

Ever since Hatty could speak, her mother had been teaching her about her Heavenly Father, and trying to make her love Him and wish to serve Him. The little girl had always listened patiently, but Mrs. Lee had never been satisfied that Hatty had made her choice to be among the lambs of Jesus’ flock, who love to hear their Shepherd’s voice, and try to follow Him. This letter, therefore, written in the frankness and simplicity of childhood, had brought joy to the mother’s heart. She believed that the love of Christ had taken root in the soul of her child, and that by God’s grace it would grow and strengthen, and in time bear such fruit as angels love to see.

Mrs. Lee had not only given the message Hatty sent to her brothers and sister, but she had read her letter to them, praying silently that by Hatty’s example they might be led to choose God for their guardian and guide.

Marcus had listened intently, and had been moved more than he cared to show. When his mother laid the letter down, he said bluntly, “I have nothing laid up against Hatty,” and abruptly left the room.

Now as he stood on the pavement leaning upon the broom, he was thinking of Hatty and her new resolution, and wondering if he should ever make up his mind to do right. Of one thing he was sure, doing wrong gave him no pleasure. He had been too well taught to be able to commit any sin, without being reminded of it by his conscience, but to obey that conscience was another thing.

Marcus could not help fancying that he should see some great change in Hatty, that she would look differently, speak differently, and he made up his mind not to be at all pleased with her if she affected any new, serious ways. This was but a momentary feeling, for Marcus really loved his sister, and in the depths of his heart he rejoiced that she had chosen the best portion, the only blessing that will last forever and ever.