Amy said no more; she finished her copy, learned her lessons, then went to the nursery to take charge of her little brother while the nurse was busy with other work.  Afterward there were socks to mend, and an errand to run, and buttons to sew on to baby’s shoes, and a letter to write.  And so the day passed, and the next morning dawned on our pleasure-loving little friend.

“No duties” she said to herself, as she woke at seven, which was her usual time for rising; “so I can lie in bed as long as I please.”  She turned over, and as she could not sleep, began making plans for the day, and thinking what a delightful time she would have.  About half past nine she came down stairs, to find her breakfast on the table; milk, toast, and egg, all as cold as possible.  “What a wretched breakfast!” she said, as she took her seat.

“Well, dear,” replied Mrs. Leslie, “your breakfast was ready at the usual time, and of course is cold now.”

Amy said no more.  She ate with only half her usual appetite, and, finishing in about five minutes put away her chair, and left the room.  As she went up stairs to fetch her hat, baby in the nursery stretched his arms for her to take him; but she hurried past, and left the little fellow crying with disappointment.

Soon she came down again, with a fairy book in one hand, and a box of chocolate drops in the other.  The sweets had been a present, but hitherto her mother had allowed her to have only one or two daily; now, however, she might do as she liked, and at present her idea of perfect bliss was the combined charms of chocolate drops and fairy stories.

[Illustration:  “Carried it like a baby.”]

For about two hours she sat in the garden; then she grew tired, and a little sick from eating too much chocolate, and was returning to the house, when her pet kitten ran out to meet her.  For a short time she amused herself by playing with it, dressing it up in her pocket handkerchief and carrying it like a baby; but Miss Pussy wearied of this, and at last jumped out of her new dress and her mistress’ arms, leaving a scratch as a keepsake behind her.

Altogether, the morning was hardly a successful one, nor was the afternoon much better.  After dinner, one of Amy’s little sisters tore her dress, and was running to Amy to ask her to mend it; but Mrs. Leslie said:—­

“Don’t go to your sister, my child, come to me;” and little Jessie, wondering, let her mother darn the rent.  Amy felt very uncomfortable, for she knew that Mrs. Leslie’s eyes were not strong, and were probably aching with the effort of such fine work; but she shrank from offering her services, and made her escape from the room as soon as she could.

In the evening she was about to draw her chair to the fire and read the newspaper to Mr. Leslie, a duty of which she had always felt rather proud; but her father gravely took the paper out of her hand, saying quickly, “No, Amy, this is a duty; remember you are to amuse yourself and do nothing else.”