In her girlhood Mrs. Perkins had herself fancied Mr. Parker, and now in her widowhood, she felt an unusual interest in the failing health of his wife.  No one replied to her remark, and Mrs. Bates continued:  “It really used to make my heart ache to see the little forlorn thing sit there in the gallery, fixed up so old and fussy, and then to see her sister prinked out like a milliner’s show window, a puckerin’ and twistin’, and if she happens to catch her sister’s eye, I have actually seen her turn up her nose at her,—­so—­” and Mrs. Bates’s nasal organ went up towards her eyebrows in imitation of the look which Ella sometimes gave Mary.  “It’s wicked in me, perhaps,” said Mrs. Bates, “but pride must have a fall, and I do hope I shall live to see the day when Ella Campbell won’t be half as well off as her sister.”

“I think Mrs. Campbell is answerable for some of Ella’s conduct,” said Mrs. Knight, “for I believe she suffered her to visit the poor-house but once while Mary was there.”

“I guess she’ll come oftener now she’s living with a city bug,” rejoined Mrs. Perkins.

Just then there was the sound of carriage wheels, and a woman near the door exclaimed, “If you’ll believe it there she is now, going right straight into Mrs. Mason’s yard.”

“Well, if that don’t beat me,” said Mrs. Perkins.  “Seems to me I’d have waited a little longer for look’s sake.  Can you see what she’s got on from here?” and the lady made a rush for the window to ascertain if possible that important fact.

Meantime the carriage steps were let down and Mrs. Campbell alighted.  As Mrs. Knight’s guests had surmised, she was far more ready to visit Mary now than heretofore.  Ella, too, had been duly informed by her waiting-maid that she needn’t mind denying that she had a sister to the Boston girls who were spending a summer in Chicopee.

“To be sure,” said Sarah, “she’ll never be a fine lady like you and live in the city; but then Mrs. Mason is a very respectable woman, and will no doubt put her to a trade, which is better than being a town pauper; so you mustn’t feel above her any more, for it’s wicked, and Mrs. Campbell wouldn’t like it, for you know she and I are trying to bring you up in the fear of the Lord.”

Accordingly Ella was prepared to greet her sister more cordially than she had done before in a long time, and Mary that day took her first lesson in learning that too often friends come and go with prosperity.  But she did not think of it then.  She only knew that her sister’s arm was around her neck, and her sister’s kiss upon her cheek.  With a cry of joy, she exclaimed, “Oh, Ella, I knew you’d be glad to find me so happy.”

But Ella wasn’t particularly glad.  She was too thoroughly heartless to care for any one except herself, and her reception of her sister was more the result of Sarah’s lesson, and of a wish expressed by Mrs. Campbell, that she would “try and behave as well as she could towards Mary.”  Mrs. Campbell, too, kissed the little girl, and expressed her pleasure at finding her so pleasantly situated; and then dropping languidly upon the sofa, asked for Mrs. Mason, who soon appeared, and received her visitor with her accustomed politeness.