Fred looked annoyed, and dropped behind the party.  Edith whispered to Emilie, “Go you on with John, I want to talk to Fred.”

“Fred, dear,” said she, “will you keep your birds in my little room, where my old toys are?  I will clear a place, and I shan’t mind their singing, do Fred. I have often hindered your pleasures, now let me have the comfort of making it up a little to you, and I will feed them and clean them while you are at school in the week.”

“You may change your mind Edith, and you know if my birds are in your room, I shall have to be there a good deal; and they will make a rare noise sometimes, and some one must take care of them all the week—­I can only attend to them on Saturdays, you know.”

“Yes, I have been thinking of all that, and I expect I shall sometimes wish to change my mind, but I shall not do it.  I am very selfish I know, but I mean to try to be better, Fred. Take my little room, do.”

Fred was a proud boy, and would rather have had to thank any one than Edith just then; but nevertheless he accepted her offer, and thanked his little sister, though not quite so kindly as he might have done, and that is the truth.  There is a grace in accepting as well as in giving.  Edith had given up what she had much prized, the independence of a little room, (it was but a little one,) a little room all to herself; but she did so because she felt love springing up in her heart.  She acted in obedience to the dictates of the law of kindness, and she felt lighter and happier than she had done for a long time.  Fred was by degrees quite cheered, and amused his companions by his droll talk for some way.  Spying, however, one of his school-fellows on the rocks at a distance, he and John, joined him abruptly, and thus Emilie and Edith were left alone.

Sincerity is never loquacious, never egotistic.  If you don’t understand these words I will tell you what I mean.  A person really in earnest; and sincere, does not talk much of earnestness and sincerity, still loss of himself.  Edith could not tell Emilie of her new resolutions, of her mental conflict, but she was so loving and affectionate in her manner to her friend, that I think Emilie understood; at any rate, she saw that Edith was very pleasant, and very gentle that night, and loved her more than ever.  She saw and felt there was a change come over her.  They walked far, and on their return found the canaries arrived, and Fred very busy in putting them up in their new abode.  He had rather unceremoniously moved Edith’s bookcase and boxes, to make room for the bird cages.  She did say, “I think you might have asked my leave,” but she instantly recalled it.  “Oh, never mind; what pretty little things, I shall like to have them with me.”