And as she said this, Hermione’s mother turned round to leave the room; but before she had reached the door, her little girl stopped her—­“Mamma, do turn back.”

“What is the matter, Hermione?”

“I’ve something I want to say to you.”

“I am all attention, my dear, particularly as your face looks so unusually grave.”

“Why, you and my Governess are always calling me good for doing my lessons well, and now you are rewarding me for being good and all that, and I don’t see that I am good at all.”

“Upon my word this is a very serious matter, Hermione; who or what has put this into your head?”

“I read in a serious book lately, that nobody could be good without practising self-denial; and that, to be really good, one must either do something that one does not like, or give up something that one does; so that I am quite sure I cannot be good and deserve a reward when I do French and music and drawing and work well, because I am so very fond of doing every thing I do do, that every thing is a pleasure to me.  And there is no struggle to do what is tiresome and no other wish to give up.  The only time when I have to try to be good at all, is when I have to leave off one thing and go to another.  That is always a little disagreeable at first, but unfortunately the disagreeableness goes off in a very few minutes, and I like the new employment as well as the last.  This is what I was talking about to my Governess when you came, and she laughed so loud I felt quite vexed.”

“My dear Hermione,” said her Mamma, “you have quite misapplied what you have read in the book.  Self-denial is always required of us, when we feel inclined to do any thing that is wrong, but it does not apply to any aptitude you may have for enjoying the occupations I require of you.  That is only a piece of good fortune for you; for to many little girls, doing lessons is a very great act of self-denial, as they want to be doing something else.  But now, as you are so lucky in liking every thing you do, you must practise your self-denial in some other way.”

“How, Mamma?”

“In not being vexed when your Governess laughs, and in not being in a passion with the cat next time he unravels your stocking.”

Hermione blushed.  “Oh, Mamma, I understand the difference now.”

“But this is not all, Hermione.”

“Well, Mamma?”

“Why, as you are so fortunate as to be always happy when employed, and as therefore there is no goodness strictly speaking, in your doing your business so cheerfully and well, you must do this, you must spend some portion of time every day in making your energy of use to other people, and then you will be doing active good if not practising self-denial.”

“Oh, Mamma, what a nice idea!  Perhaps you will give me some needlework to do for the poor women you give money to; and, besides, just now I can do something actively useful and still a little really disagreeable,—­really it is, Mamma,—­what makes you laugh?”