“Never mind, my child, if you will do carefully everything you do understand, and obey cheerfully even when you cannot see why you should, you will please your heavenly Father and give me comfort and pleasure, and perhaps some day you may have a chance to do something brave.”

Jennie’s face grew brighter, as it always did when she had confided her griefs to mamma, and for many days she watched and waited anxiously, thinking that at any time something might happen.

And so it did; for one day a letter came from Jennie’s aunt, Mrs. Graham, saying she would come and spend a few days with her sister, and bring with her little Willie, a boy about two years old.

Of course they were very welcome, and Jennie greatly enjoyed playing with her cousin.  He was a charming fellow, but very fond of having his own way; and one of his great enjoyments was to plunge two chubby hands into Jennie’s thick, light hair, and pull it with all his might.

[Illustration:  “He pulled Jennie’s hair with all his might.”]

Of course this was a short-lived pleasure when any older person saw him, but when they were alone, Jennie would endure the pain patiently until she could coax the little fellow to let go.

She never gave him a cross word, and when the nurse would say impatiently, “Indade, thin, Miss Jennie, it’s a wonder ye don’t just shlap his hands!” she would answer gravely, “Oh, no, he’s so much littler than I am.”

Yet Jennie was not perfect, and though she generally tried to do what was right, sometimes, like the rest of the world, she wanted to do what she knew was wrong.

One bright afternoon, when she was playing in the yard, her mother called her:—­

“Your aunt and I must ride to the station directly, to meet uncle and your father, and I would like to have you go quietly into the nursery and sit there until Maggie returns from an errand; it will not be long.”

“But Willie is sound asleep, mamma, he doesn’t want me,” said Jennie, who was anxious to stay out of doors.

“Yes, dear, I know it, but we shall feel safer to have some one in the room, even if he is asleep; something may happen if he is alone.”

Jennie, however, was so unwilling to sit quietly in the house that even these familiar words did not attract her, but with slow steps and a sullen face, she obeyed her mother’s wishes.

She knew quite well how slight a thing she had been asked to do, and although at another time she would not have objected, just now, when she wanted to do something else, it seemed very hard to give up her own will.

Her conscience was so disagreeable, too, for it would keep saying all the time, “I am ashamed of you, Jennie Browning!  Can’t you do this for your kind mamma, even if you do want to do something else?” How tiresome it all was, and how she wished she could “just do as she liked!”

Thoughts like these were filling Jennie’s mind as she stood looking out of the nursery window; but all at once she was aroused by the strong smell of burning woolen.