Hatty’s wounded neck and arms healed rapidly, but the red spots remained for many days to remind all the family of the late accident, and make them more tender than usual in their manner to the courageous little girl.

Marcus seemed to have quite changed his opinion of his sister, and felt called upon to treat her with marked respect, and to honor her with many long talks on his favorite subjects.

Hatty heard his footstep in the hall, as he was returning from school one afternoon, shortly after the accident. She knew that on that day was to be awarded the prize for which he had so faithfully labored, and which he had been induced to forfeit for the sake of truth.

She felt great sympathy for him, and was planning in her own mind how she could best cheer him under his disappointment, when he threw open the door, and with a joyous bound sprang towards her.

“Look, Hatty!” he said, as he laid on her lap the richly bound copy of Virgil which he had so desired for its own sake, as well as a mark of his teacher’s approval.

“It is mine, given in the presence of the school, by Mr. Briggs!” said Marcus, with a joyous smile, “And I owe it all to you, Hatty.”

“I am so glad!” said Hatty, with real pleasure. “But you do not owe it to me, Marcus.”

“Yes, Hatty,” continued Marcus, “Mr. Briggs knew all about my being late, and he was waiting for me to acknowledge it; if I had not I should have lost his confidence, and the prize would never have been mine, he said: as it was, no other boy stood as high as I did! Isn’t it splendid?”

“I am very, very glad,” repeated Hatty. “Is it not better always to try to do right, Marcus!” she added softly.

Marcus opened his mouth as if to speak, then turned silently away.

That evening Mrs. Lee sat in the library, in the twilight, with Marcus and Hatty. She too had heard about the prize, and had rejoiced with her son, with a silent prayer in her heart that he might see the wisdom of the Better Path, and be led always to do right by the happy results which had followed the step that had cost him such an effort.

After the subject of the prize had been discussed, a feeling of quietness stole over the little group; perhaps all had their own serious thoughts at that twilight hour.

“Come, Hatty,” said Mrs. Lee, pleasantly, “can you not recite a hymn for us?”

Mrs. Lee almost feared that Marcus would walk away at this proposal, as he had often done before, on similar occasions; but he sat down at his mother’s side, and listened, while Hatty repeated, in a voice of deep feeling, the hymn, “Ashamed of Jesus.”

“Mother,” said Hatty, earnestly, when she had done speaking, “Do you think anybody in a Christian country was ever ashamed of Jesus?”

“There are few in a christian country, my dear, who would be willing to be called infidels, or heathen,” said Mrs. Lee, soberly; “and I doubt if there are any young people who have heard of Jesus, who would not shrink from the thought. Though this is quite true, there are many who are ashamed of Jesus many children, I fear!”

“O Mother! what do you mean?” said Hatty, earnestly.

“I mean,” said Mrs. Lee, “there are many who are ashamed to have it known that they wish to serve him. They would rather their best actions should be attributed to any cause, than a desire to do His will. They hide their best feelings, and struggle to show indifference when holy things are named, in a way which proves them at heart to be ashamed of Jesus. Alas, poor foolish children! what will be their lot when he is ashamed of them, in the presence of his Father in Heaven!”

Marcus had laid his head on his mother’s hand, as he sat beside her, and now she felt the hot tears trickle over it.

Hatty was questioning in heart whether she could be so situated as to be ashamed of Jesus, when Marcus suddenly rose, and said:

“I am afraid I have been ashamed of Jesus! Let me say now to you, dear Mother, and to Hatty, that I do wish to serve Him, and I want you both to help me.

“We will together ask God for his help, which is better than any human arm, my dear son,” said Mrs. Lee, solemnly.

The mother knelt down with her children, and earnestly implored God’s blessing on their young hearts. Fervently she asked the Great Heavenly Friend so to guide and sustain them in the upward path, that they might at last be gathered to his Eternal Home, with all those that love Him in sincerity and truth.

When they rose from their knees, Hatty’s heart was too full of joy for words. She walked to Marcus’ side, and putting her arm about him, kissed him, with a deep, trusting affection she had never felt before.

Now came in Aunt Barbara, leading little Harry, full of glee, while Meg followed, with her usual cheerful skip.

“Let us have one more hymn before supper,” said Mrs. Lee, as she gathered the little group around her. “We will have ’I want to be like Jesus,’ and only those must sing who really feel what they say.”

Mrs. Lee began in her own clear, sweet voice. Hatty quickly followed, and Marcus united with her in trembling tones, with sober earnestness. Meg, with her childlike warble, and even little Harry, felt that he wanted to be like Jesus, and tried to lisp in “sweet accord” his Saviour’s name, blending his baby notes with those that fell from Aunt Barbara’s faltering tongue.

How welcome to the father’s ear, as he returned from his daily toil, was that evening hymn!

At the closing verse his manly tones were heard as a deep, full echo to the rest, while devout thanksgiving filled the mother’s heart.

And Hatty little Hatty she felt almost too happy for earth; and fully she realized the truth, that “Wisdom’s ways are pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”