When Hatty had arranged her clothes once more neatly in her own room, she began to wonder what had become of Marcus, and she concluded to go in search of him; she met him in the hall. He seemed much excited, and said, “O Hatty, what beautiful bantams! I have put them in a barrel, and carried all the packages grandma sent, to the kitchen, and now I want to know where we shall keep them?”

Hatty was not quite pleased that Marcus should take the bantams so immediately under his protection, though she had brought them as a present to him. She checked the feeling of annoyance, and said pleasantly, “They are yours, Marcus, so you can plan for them as you think best; but perhaps you could manage to make a coop, as you do not go to school to-day.”

Marcus was delighted with the presents, and resolved to set to work immediately to get the pets into comfortable quarters before Sunday.

Hatty put on her sun-bonnet, and they both were soon very busy in the yard, planning for the chicken coop with as much interest as if they were going to build some wonderful specimen of architecture which all the world would admire.

Marcus found in the wood-house a large packing box, and after much hammering he succeeded in knocking out one side, so the chickens could have their feet on the ground in their new home.

“Chickens are like the Irishman who liked a mud floor that would never wear out, and never need washing,” said Marcus, with the air of one who was instructing some ignorant person.

“Yes, grandma has all her coops made that way,” said Hatty, who was well pleased to show that she understood the subject.

Marcus now selected a board of the right length, and had just begun to split it up into slabs for the front of the coop, when he heard Aunt Barbara’s bed-room window go up.

Marcus did not raise his eyes, but he could not stop his ears, and he had to hear the shrill tone that called out, “Stop! stop! Marcus Lee!”

Marcus rested his hatchet on the board, and looked up.

“You are a wasteful boy!” began Aunt Barbara. “You ought to be ashamed to cut up that good board!”

“Don’t mind her,” said Marcus, in an undertone, as he resumed his work.

“Wait a minute, Marcus,” said Hatty; and then raising her voice she called out, “Aunt Barbara, we want a coop for the chickens some dear little bantams I brought from grandma’s!”

“Chickens!” said Aunt Barbara, much as if she had said bears! “What on earth did you bring them here for? why, they’ll ruin everything in the garden, and crow so in the morning nobody can sleep.”

“We are going to shut them up, Aunt Barbara, and that will keep them out of mischief,” said Hatty, trying to speak pleasantly.

“Take your own way! take your own way! Its never any use for me to say anything!” said Aunt Barbara, and her window was put down with such a force that made the glass rattle.

Marcus had expected to hear Hatty answer in her usual hasty way, and he was quite surprised to see that she did not seem at all angry, and now had no unkind remarks to make about Aunt Barbara. He did not know that Hatty had been obliged to cast one look up to the clear sky, to remember the Great Being who was looking down upon her, before she dare trust herself to speak, nor did he know that she was now wondering why Aunt Barbara should be so unlike her dear, dear grandma.

Marcus kept steadily on at his work, but Hatty did not feel satisfied about it until she had asked her mother if there was really any harm in what they were doing. After Mrs. Lee had given them free permission to go on, the morning passed pleasantly away in watching Marcus, and she was quite surprised when the dinner bell rang.

“O dear!” said Hatty, “we shall have hardly time to put ourselves in order for the table.”

Although Marcus knew that it was his mother’s express wish that he should never come to the table without looking neat and tidy, he paid little regard to his personal appearance; but there was something in the eager way in which Hatty hastened to brush the hair she had been too much inclined to neglect, that had its influence on him.

Hatty was in her seat before her father was at the table, and a pleased smile crossed her face as she saw that Marcus had been using the clothes brush, and combing his straight black hair off his high forehead.

The dinner hour was always a pleasant time at Mrs. Lee’s, for then all the family were together, and some interesting conversation was sure to take place. Marcus was a restless boy, active in body and mind. He enjoyed his father’s society, and affected to think that he was the only one in the family who was really a suitable companion for a boy of the mature age of twelve!

Mr. Lee was a merchant; he had lately met with large losses, but he did not allow himself to be saddened by misfortunes that left his home untouched, and all his dear ones alive and well. Mr. Lee was a tall, slender man, with a bright, expressive eye, and a large, pleasant mouth, and his children thought him the handsomest man in Hyde, the large inland town where he lived.

During the dinner-hour on the day about which we are writing, Mr. Lee was talking of a plan for building an Orphan Asylum, about which the citizens of Hyde were greatly interested.

Marcus listened to his father’s remarks, and seemed to think himself called upon to reply. He did so, and showed uncommon quickness and good sense for a boy of his years in what he said. Mrs. Lee modestly made some suggestions, which her husband thought particularly useful; but Marcus’ lip curled as his mother spoke, in a way which it was well for him escaped his father’s observation. After dinner, Mr. Lee was obliged to hurry away, but not too soon to give Hatty a kiss, and to say to her how pleasant it was to see her face once more at the table.

When Mr. Lee was gone, Mrs. Lee resumed the subject about which they had been talking, and sketched what she thought would be an improvement on the internal arrangement of the proposed building.

“Now don’t, Mother!” said Marcus. “What do women know about such things?”

“What do boys know? you had better say!” said Hatty, hastily taking part with her mother.

“Any sensible boy of twelve knows more about such things than a woman!” said Marcus, turning to leave the room.

“Stop, Marcus,” said Mrs. Lee, gently.

Marcus stopped, but did not approach his mother. She stepped to his side and said: “Marcus, there was once a boy of twelve who had more wisdom than the learned doctors in the Jewish Temple. He, of course, knew more than his mother. Yet he went down with her to Nazareth, and was subject unto her. Even he was not above honoring his father and mother. Will you not try to imitate him?”

Marcus was softened by his mother’s gentle manner, and he answered: “If I don’t behave as I ought to you, Mother, it is a great shame;” and then he was again turning away.

Again he was detained. Hatty laid her hand on his arm and said: “Marcus, I did not speak rightly to you just now. I was angry. I am sorry.” Hatty blushed painfully when she spoke, and it was evident the acknowledgment cost her a great effort.

“I did not notice it,” said Marcus, hurrying away.

Hatty felt a little hurt at the way her apology was received, but her mother took her by the hand, and said: “That is right, Hatty. Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another. You must not forget Marcus in your prayers.”

Hatty was silent a moment, and then her mother said: “Come now, my dear, the baby is awake, and you will have an opportunity to see his queer little blue eyes, and to hold him in your lap.”

Hatty was delighted when she reached the nursery, to be allowed to take the tiny being in her arms, and to hold his pretty soft hand in hers.

Meg and Harry seemed to think it was a very attractive sight to see Hatty with the baby on her lap, and they left their soap-bubbles and came to stand about her.

At this moment Aunt Barbara came in. She did not seem to notice Hatty and the baby. Her eyes at once fell upon the bowl full of soap-suds Meg had placed on a chair.

“Dear! dear!” exclaimed Aunt Barbara, “what are the children coming to? Why, they waste soap as if it grew, instead of cost money! Here, Meg, pour this away directly, and don’t do such a thing again!”

“It won’t help it to throw it away,” said Meg. “I want to blow bubbles.”

“Shan’t have it! shan’t have it!” said little Harry, holding tight to the edge of the bowl with his little fat hands.

“Aunt Barbara,” said Mrs. Lee, very gently, “I told the children they might blow bubbles a little while this afternoon. Jane mixed the soap for them, that they need not be wasteful.”

“Its little use savin’ in such a house as this!” said Aunt Barbara, and she walked away as if she were particularly injured.

Marcus now came in to tell how happy and contented the chickens seemed in the new coop. He saw some evidences of displeasure on the faces of Meg and Harry, and he exclaimed, “I met Aunt Barbara in the hall, with her indignation strut on. What’s up?”

“Marcus, my son, I cannot bear to hear you speak in that way of any old person, especially of Aunt Barbara.”

“But she is too tiresome and provoking, Mother. If I want a piece of twine for a kite-string she calls it wasteful, and

“Yes,” broke in Meg, “and when I want to play tea, she won’t let me have a bit of milk or sugar, that is, if mother is not here.”

“Hush, hush, my children,” said Mrs. Lee, with a look of pain. “Come, sit down all of you, and I will tell you a story.”

Marcus liked to hear stories as well as little Meg herself, and he forthwith sat down on the floor, where he could look straight into his mother’s eyes.

Mrs. Lee began: “Once there was a little orphan girl, only seven years old. Her father and mother died, and she did not know what was to become of her. Now this little girl had an aunt, who was the widow of a clergyman. This aunt had a little cottage of her own, and just enough money to live quietly and comfortably by herself. She knew if she took the little orphan to her home, she must deny herself a great many comforts to which she had always been accustomed; but she resolved to do it.

The little girl was very glad when she found that she was not alone in the wide world, and she soon learned to love the kind aunt who did so much for her.

Sometimes she was surprised to see what care her aunt took, that nothing should be wasted; and she often wondered why her aunt did not buy herself a new bonnet, or a new dress, which she seemed to need. She did not know that her aunt had to practice so much care and economy, to give her a home. By and by, when she grew older, she understood all this, and tried to be like a daughter to the friend who had been so kind to her. Her aunt’s queer little ways only made her feel, then, that it was for her she had learned to save even the shreds she cut off when she was sewing. After the orphan girl was grown, she was married to a very kind gentleman. This gentleman was so grateful to the aunt for her care of the orphan, that he wanted her to come and live with them in her comfortable home; but Aunt Barbara said

“There, there, Mother! you have let it out,” exclaimed the children in a breath.

“Don’t, don’t,” said Hatty; “what did Aunt Barbara say, Mother?”

“She said, your old aunty is queer and notional, and maybe you would be happier without her. No, no, let me stay here alone; I shall be quite contented to know my little orphan is so well taken care of! It was of no use urging Aunt Barbara, so we had to let her have her way. Now, my children, you know how Aunt Barbara got her very economical ways, and I hope you will have patience with her, for my sake.”

“Indeed, I will!” said Hatty, looking up with her eyes full of tears.

“I won’t tease her any more,” said Meg, nestling at her mother’s side.

Marcus was silent; he felt too deeply to speak, how ill a return he had made to Aunt Barbara for her kindness to his mother.

“But how came Aunt Barbara here?” asked Hatty, with much interest.

“I will tell you,” said Mrs. Lee. “We had been married three years, when I had a little, helpless, sickly baby. I was too feeble to take proper care of it, and your father was obliged to be too much away from home to give me any help. Aunt Barbara heard how weak and pale I was looking, and what a poor, suffering baby I had. Then the old lady let her little home to a stranger, and came one day to us. She said she could not sleep for thinking of me and the little one, and she had come to take care of us. And what good care she took of us! She seemed to know just what I wanted. I was young, then, and there were many things about which I was as ignorant as you are. Aunt Barbara had nourishing food made for me just when I needed it, she took the care of the housekeeping from me, and so nursed me that I soon began to feel strong again. But I have not told you about the poor baby. Aunt Barbara could not do too much for that baby. It was a cross little thing, crying even when it was not sick. Aunt Barbara was never out of patience with it. She attended to its food, got up with it at night, and even when I was well enough to take it with me again, she was hardly willing to give it up.

“All this watching and nursing was too much for Aunt Barbara; she has never been well since. When her rheumatism keeps her awake at night, she is often irritable and inclined to find fault the next day. When I feel tempted to be out of patience with her, I have only to remember that it was for me and my little baby she came here, and that for us she wearied herself until her health gave way.”

“Mother,” said Hatty, in a whisper, “was I that little sickly baby that Aunt Barbara was so patient with?”

“Yes, my darling,” was Mrs. Lee’s reply.

The many impertinent, hasty, impatient words that she had spoken to her old aunt, returned to Hatty’s mind, and she resolved to ask God to give her strength to make amends for the past.

“It is a sad truth,” said Mrs. Lee, “that old people have much less patience shown towards them than little children have, yet they need it quite as much. God has so arranged it, that those who are watched over and taken care of when they are helpless babes, should in their turn nurse and comfort the feeble old age of their parents. Remember, my children, old age makes people in one way like infants; that is, it leads them to be irritable and troublesome, and often helpless, and these defects should be borne with tenderly, as your father or I would soothe that dear baby on Hatty’s lap. God has taught in his holy book the greatest respect to the aged, and his eye sees with displeasure even a rude look cast towards one who is grey-haired.”

The children were all silent. Mrs. Lee saw that they were moved, and in her heart she prayed that God would grant a blessing upon the earnest words she had spoken, and save her dear ones from falling into the sin so offensive to the Holy One of Israel.