“Oh, hush! dears, pray hush,” said Sarah, beginning to pick up the shells, “we will soon build it up again.”  This they all declared impossible, and cried afresh, but Sarah persevered, and quietly went on piling up the shells, till at last one little mourner took up her coarse pinafore and wiping her eyes, said, “Sarah does it very nicely.”  The grotto rose beautifully, and at last they were all quiet and happy again; all but poor Susy, who, seeing herself excluded, kept up a terrible whine.  “I wonder if Susan is sorry,” said Sarah.  “Not she, not she, don’t ask her here again,” said they all.  “Why not,” said the grandfather, who having walked about with Susy awhile, and talked gravely to her, appeared to have brought about a change in her temper?  “Why because she will knock it down again the first time any thing puts her out.”  “Won’t you try her?” said Sarah, pleadingly; but they still said “No! no!” “Don’t you mind the day, Dick,” said Sarah, “when you pulled grandfather’s new net all into the mud, and tangled his twine, and spoilt him a whole day’s work?” “Yes,” said Dick.  “Ah, and don’t you mind, too, when he went out in the boat next day, and you asked to go with him, just as if nothing had happened, and you had done no harm, he said, ’ah, Dick, if I were to mind what revenge says, I would not take you with me; you have injured me very much, but I’ll mind what love says, and that tells me to return good for evil?’” “Yes,” says Dick.  “Do you think you could have hurt any thing of grandfather’s after that?” “No,” said Dick, “but I did not do it in a rage, as Susy did.”  “You did mischief, though,” said Sarah; “but I want Susy to give over going into these rages.  I want to cure her.  Beating her does no good, mother says that herself; wont you all try and help to cure Susy?”

These children were not angels.  I am writing of children as they are you know, and though they yielded, it was rather sullenly, and little Susan was given to understand that she was not a very welcome addition.  Susy kept very close to Sarah, sobbing and heaving, till the children seeing her subdued, made more room for her, and her smile returned.  Now the law of kindness prevailed, and when the time came to run down to the shore for some more shells, to replace those that had been broken, Susy, at Sarah’s hint, ran first and fastest, and brought her little pinafore fullest of all.  Edith watched all this, and her good old mentor was willing that she should.  “I suppose you have taught them this way of settling disputes,” said Edith to Joe.  “I, oh no, Miss, I can’t take all the credit.  Sarah, there, she has taken to me very much since my Bob died, and she said to me the day of his funeral, when her heart was soft and tender-like, ‘Grandfather, tell me what I can do to comfort you.’  ‘Oh, child,’ says I, ’my grief is too deep for you to touch, but you are a kind girl, I’ll tell you what to do to-night.  Leave me alone, and, oh, try and make the children quiet, for my head aches as bad as my heart.  Sally.’”