But as no little boys and girls are perfect, or large ones either, for that matter, I am going to tell you what a mistake Bertha made, and how she was cured of a feeling that might have settled into a very disagreeable habit.  Indeed, I have met some grown people who have fallen into the way of treating elderly members of the family with a disregard that bordered on contempt.

[Illustration:  “There was one handsome house which Bertha had often admired.”]

Bertha was delighted to be at home once more, to be clasped to her dear mother’s heart, to find her father quite improved in health, and her two little brothers as merry as ever; and to meet her dear old grandmother, an old lady who was nearly eighty years of age, yet bright and active, with a fair, sweet face, and silvery hair, which was nearly all covered with a fine muslin cap, the border being crimped in the daintiest fashion you ever saw.

I used to think she looked just like a picture, of a summer afternoon, when she put on a fresh cap and kerchief,—­as she used to call the white half square of lawn that she wore round her shoulders,—­and her clean, checked apron.  In spite of her years, she did a great deal of work around the house, and I do not believe George and Willie would have known how to live without her.

The Gilberts were in very moderate circumstances, for Mr. Gilbert had been compelled to leave his business and retire to the country on account of ill health.  This little village of Hillside was a very pretty place.  A river ran on one side, and on the opposite side ran a railroad that led directly to New York.  Consequently a great many rich and fashionable people lived here, as well as a poorer class.

There was one handsome house which Bertha had often admired.  It was the home of very wealthy people—­Mr. and Mrs. Bell.  The lawn and gardens were very beautiful, and they had an elegant greenhouse and a grapery, indeed, everything that heart could wish.  Then Mrs. Bell had traveled nearly all over Europe, and had visited China.

Bertha had met two of Mrs. Bell’s nieces at school; one was a young lady, and the other a little girl not quite as old as herself; but somehow she and Ada Wilson became great friends.  The two girls were to visit Mrs. Bell during their vacation, and Ada had promised to spend a day with Bertha—­indeed, to come to see her often.

“For Aunt Bell is such a great lady,” Ada had said, “and there are no children; so I’m afraid I shall be lonesome; and you must return my calls.”

The idea of going to the grand house quite elated Bertha.  She told it over to her mother with a great deal of pleasure.

But nothing ever happens just as one wants it.  The Gilberts’ parlor had been repapered, and there was some delay in getting down the new carpet.  They would surely be in order by the time the Wilsons arrived, Bertha thought to herself one afternoon, as she brought her tiny workbasket to the sitting room and took out a piece of braiding to finish.