her face, and her eager, grateful smile showed how she felt her brother's thoughtful kindness. She sprang to her mother's side, exclaiming, "Oh, mamma, I did not think of it before! How good of Archie to remember such a thing! Do you think papa would consider the job large enough? Oh, how glad I should be to get the workbox! Will you speak to papa about it, mamma? I don't like exactly to remind him—it would seem asking for the workbox; but if you or Archie would settle it, oh, how nice it would be!"

"It would be very nice, Mabel dear," replied her mother; "and it was very kind of Archie to think of it. I am sure papa will be quite pleased with the plan. We will speak to him at tea-time. and settle all about the workbox. Put the handkerchiefs into that lower drawer, Archie dear. It is not locked, and Mabel will know where to find them when she is ready to begin her 'good job of work,' as you call it. I think it really will be a very good job, and a great help to me certainly."*

Just at that moment Mr. Grey's steps were heard on the stairs, and eager cries of "Papa, papa," soon brought him into the room, just in time for the grand locking performance, which came off to every one's satisfaction. Then the packing of the valise had to be attended to, and when that was finished the handkerchief question was brought forward, and most gladly agreed to, and then all were ready for tea, and for a pleasant stroll afterwards in the garden and a great consultation as to the size and fittings up of the precious prize, in which Archie seemed almost as much interested as Mabel herself. Then bedtime came, and the children trooped off with the promise of good-bye kisses in the morning, though neither papa nor mamma would agree to waken anybody; for five o'clock was the hour of starting-too early for little people to be stirring even in June.

But now, before giving my readers the history of Mabel's undertaking, I must tell them, as the story-books say, who she was and all about her. They know already that she had a papa and mamma, and three brothers, and they have guessed most likely that these latter were all younger than herself. She was ten years, Archie eight, Ronald five, and little Walter just ten months old. Their home was called Earlstone, and a very happy home it was. Mabel and Archie were great allies. They learnt together, played together, had no secrets from one another; indeed, they had few real secrets, I fancy, from any one else either; and knew more of each other's tastes, and wishes, and plans for the future than any other person. So far their mamma had been their teacher. There was some

This story, of course, goes back a little to a time when every family, such as Mrs. Grey's, did not, as now, possess a sewing machine.

talk of engaging a governess; but the children were so diligent, and gave so little trouble, that Mrs. Grey was in no haste to resign her charge, and to them the idea of change was very unwelcome. Ronald, too, had joined the school-room party, and, so far as could be, was admitted into the play of his elders; but both Mabel and Archie thought and spoke of him as a child, to be cared for and amused something in the same way as Walter was, and thus the peculiar bond between the two nearest in age remained singularly untouched. Mr. and Mrs. Grey saw it with pleasure, and did all in their power to strengthen it. Earlstone, beautifully situated as it was in the very depths of the country, was of necessity rather a solitary place, so far as near neighbours were concerned, and both for the present and the future it was well for the children to find their best-loved companions at home. Mabel's enterprise and enthusiasm, and Archie's sober steadiness, were admirable counterpoises now, and promised to be so yet more as the brother and sister grew up, unconsciously moulding and helping each other as no one else could do. The whole episode relating to the workbox is a proof of this, and, as my story hinges much upon it, I must relate the circumstances at full length.

Few little girls are very fond of work, and Mabel Grey was no exception to the rule. Indeed, about a year before our story opens she had been noted for her dislike of it; a finger's length of hemming seemed as much as she could at all manage, and if by chance an inch more was allotted her, a flood of bitter tears was the invariable result. Her mamma hoped and said that as she grew older she would grow wiser; her papa said very little, for he thought it best not to interfere; Archie, to whom Mabel in trouble was a most grievous sight, took many private opportunities for expostulation and entreaty, and even undertook to learn to hem himself, under his sister's half-amused, half-vexed instructions, in order practically to discover what there was so very unpleasant in the operation. After all, his doing so in the end wrought Mabel's cure. A month or two after his papa made him a present of a splendid ship, complete in everything except sails and flags. Mamma and nurse were busy with little Walter, then a tiny baby-the servants had no leisure for play-work-he could not bear to tease his sister, who was just then groaning and sighing over a flannel shawl for her new brother-though the pleasure of sitting by his cot as she worked, and occasionally holding him on her lap while she rested her wearied hand, was some comfort, she confessed-there seemed no one to make the sails but Archie himself, and proud of his new accomplishment, he set to his task.

It was a hard one, but he persevered steadily, stitching away without complaining, though the needle had a sad trick of running

into his finger instead of the linen, and the difficulty of keeping the hem straight was almost more than he could master. Again and again he had to unpick his day's work and begin it anew, until at last Mabel herself got interested in the job, and pitied him and his stiff boyish fingers so much, and was so full of admiration of his patience and good humour, that no sooner was the shawl finished than she set to work in right earnest, smoothed out the rumpled sails, trimmed off the ravelled edges, and hemmed them with an expedition that surprised herself, and seemed to Archie almost like magic. Then came the flags-such grand flags they were the very brightness of the colours helped her along; and at last, when the ship was fully rigged and ready to sail, so easy and pleasant comparatively had work become, that she volunteered to dress a crew of sailors, with a smart captain at their head, and had the satisfaction of seeing them embark one fine morning on Leyton Pond, amid Archie's almost tearful gratitude and the admiring exclamations of nurse, and Ronald, and a select and sympathising audience, composed of coachman, footman, gardener, and gardener's boy. Since then, the "Mabel," as she was named, had been an unfailing source of interest to both brother and sister; and though it could not be said with strict truth yet that the latter was fond of using her needle, it was certain that doing so was no longer such a weary task as it had been, and that in itself was a substantial reward for her reai kindness.

But Archie was not satisfied. He had done what he could to prove his gratitude by naming his beloved ship after his sister, but that was only a scanty return for her solid benefits, yet more for the self-denial-and Archie, child as he was, appreciated this part quite as much as any other-which she had exercised for his sake. Mabel, on her part, did not think twice about the matter. Generous of disposition, and loving her brother with her whole heart, the idea of deserving special praise for helping him out of his difficulty did not once occur to her. She was honestly interested in the success of the ship, and, if the truth must be sifted to the very bottom, too heartily glad to have finished her job and pleased Archie with it, to think of the job itself; hence, when every now and then the latter sighed out an earnest desire that he could repay her for her kindness, she scarcely heeded the words, or laughed them off as Archie's over-fondness for herself. As we have seen, however, an opportunity for realising the little boy's wishes had most happily occurred. A long time before, so it seemed to the children, their papa had uttered the promise so well remembered by one at least. Just then a workbox had been the climax of Mabel's ambition, and he thought that to set such a prize before her would spur on her flagging energies, and do more to

overcome her prejudices than reproof or expostulation; but, though eagerly listened to, the proposition had failed of the intended effect, and a neatly-fitted workbag, which had been given her by her grandpapa the succeeding Christmas, had put the thoughts of the workbox aside; still, it was not entirely forgotten, and the two children had talked about it quite enough for Archie to know that the prize was still a great one in his sister's eyes. Hence, when the handkerchiefs were spoken of, he caught at the idea-it did not for a moment occur to Mabel herself—and, as we have seen, successfully concluded the negotiation. How "the good job," as he called it, was completed, or if it was completed at all, will be my part to tell my little readers, if they care to hear what befell at Earlstone during the absence of its master and mistress.

Mr. and Mrs. Grey expected to be from home about a fortnight on a visit to the father of the latter, an old gentleman, who lived in a distant county, and who had latterly grown so increasingly feeble that his daughter was anxious to see him at once, instead of waiting for the annual visit,-it was doubtful whether he would be able to pay it this year,-which she had been accustomed to receive from him ever since her marriage. Grandpapa Ross was dearly loved by all his grandchildren, and Mrs. Grey had been sorely tempted to take one or other of them with her; but she had decided, after much consideration, that it was best to leave them all at home. Walter could not go unless nurse went with him; and, though Ronald could dispense with her services, he would have been dull with no play-fellows at Bishopstoke, and to take Mabel or Archie alone would have left the other to a very desolate fortnight while papa and mamma were away also. She had not hinted at her deliberations to the children, fearing to raise hopes that might, as it proved, have to be disappointed, and no teasings or vain wishes troubled the little party while the travellers were preparing for their journey. Every one would have liked to join them; no one for a moment complained of being left behind. It is such a comfort when children wisely depend on the judgment of their parents, knowing that whatever they decide is really for the best, and that no pleasure will ever be denied that can with propriety be granted. The little Greys had early learned this lesson, and whatever papa or mamma said was accepted with that loving faith which is the best proof of affection that a child can give.

The next morning rose bright and sunny-just the day that one would choose for a journey; and presently papa and mamma came softly into the nursery to kiss good-bye to their little ones. Walter and Ronald were fast asleep, with ruffled curls and rosy faces, on which many lingering kisses were pressed. Archie, in his small room, had remembrance enough to murmur "good night," without opening his close-sealed eyes; but Mabel was wide awake in hers, ready to give kiss for kiss, and to send messages for all to dear grandpapa, and every one at Bishopstoke. To her honour be it spoken, the thought of the ardently-desired workbox was so far in the back-ground, that, though she had been pondering over it for a quarter of an hour before, it was not till she heard the halldoor close, and the carriage drive away, that she recollected what was to come back in it when the travellers returned. Indeed, now

that the parting had come, she had some ado to keep back her tears; for a fortnight seemed a long, long time to look forward to without either papa or mamma; but she bore up bravely, and only clunga little more fondly to both as they gave her their farewell kisses. Just at the last moment her mamma bent over her-" Mabel, my darling, you will be very obedient to nurse, and help the rest to be good to her also, will you not? Let me feel, while I am away, that you are all doing just what I should wish if I were here with you. Be very gentle, dearest, with little Ronny and Walter. I know you and Archie will be kind to each other. Be a little mother to them all in my place Mabel dear. Good-bye, my own dear child ;" and Mabel, with a "Yes, mamma; indeed I will try," gave her one last kiss, as if to ratify the treaty.

The clock on the stairs soon chimed the half-hour.

“Half-past five,” thought Mabel. "I may get up at half-past six, and nurse will do my hair before she dresses baby and Ronny, and then I shall be able to work at the handkerchiefs before breakfast. I wish it was time to get up at once. I will try to stay awake, however, and be ready the minute the clock comes round to the half-hour again ;" and just, it seemed, as she had finished that thought, nurse's voice said-" Come, Miss Mabel; it is seven o'clock; time to be up, or you will not be ready for breakfast;" and, with a great start, Mabel found that every one else was dressed, and waiting to go downstairs. Even little Walter, with nicely brushed hair and clean pinafore, was sitting in his cot, contentedly watching the flies that buzzed about its pretty pink lining, and kept him amused while nurse was busy with the rest of her charge. Work must wait till after breakfast, that was plain; but as soon as it was over Mabel ran off to her mamma's dressing-room, and took out the parcel on which so much depended. Presently she returned to the school-room,-a thoroughly comfortable one it was, in which it had been decided that the children should pass their time and take their meals, together with nurse, while papa and mamma were from home. The two little ones had returned to the nursery to dress for a walk; Archie was painting the picture of a butterfly that had been given him the day before, having been found at the bottom of a drawer which was in process of being emptied Mabel came into the room, as I said, her face beaming, eager interest in her voice.

"Oh, Archie," she exclaimed, "I have been measuring papa's handkerchiefs; they are twenty-three inches long;-of course they're a great deal larger than yours or mine; and I find that by working diligently I can hem an inch in a minute and a half; that makes thirty-four minutes and a half for a side, besides the turning down. They are so stiff I shall not want to tack down the hem, which is a great comfort; so I shall be able to do a side in very little more than half an hour. My plan is to do a side just after breakfast every morning, now, as it were, while we are quiet here; and another in the afternoon when dinner is over. That will be just six days. This is Tuesday; then I shall finish the whole on Monday afternoon, and have it off my mind, as mamma says. She always says, when she has a job in hand, that she likes to do it at once, and get it off her mind, and I will do the same with