“See! this is for you, if you like it more better than the thunder-and-lightning marbles, as Cousin Penny calls the one you were going to wear.”

“How lovely!  Where did you get it, child?” cried Cis, wide awake at once, as she ran to the glass to try the effect of the new ornament on her white neck.

“My dear Mr. Thomas gave it to me; but he said I could give it away if I liked, and I want you to have it, ’cause it’s ever so much prettier than any you’ve got.”

“That’s very kind of you, Chicken, but why not keep it yourself?  You like nice things as well as I do,” said Cicely, much impressed by the value of the gift, for it was real amber, and the clasp of gold.

“Well, I’ve talked with Mr. Thomas about missionarying a great deal, and he told me how he made the savinges good by giving them beads, and things to eat, and being patient and kind to them.  So I thought I’d play be a missionary, and call this house Africa, and try to make the people here behave more better,” answered Rosy, with such engaging earnestness, as well as frankness, that Cis laughed, and exclaimed,—­

“You impertinent monkey, to call us heathen and try to convert us!  How do you expect to do it?”

“Oh, I’m getting on pretty well, only you don’t convert as quick as some of the savinges did.  I’ll tell you about it;” and Button went on eagerly.  “Cousin Penny is the good old one, but rather fussy and slow, so I’m kind and patient, and now she loves me and lets me do things I like.  She is my best one.  Cousin Henny is my cannybel, ’cause she eats so much, and I please her by bringing nice things and getting her cushions ready.  You are my baddest one, who is cross to me, and fights, and raps my head, and slaps my hands; so I thought some beads would be nice for you, and I bringed these beauties.  Mr. Thomas gave ’em to me when I told him my trials.”

Cicely looked angry, amused, and ashamed, as she listened to the funny yet rather pathetic little play with which the lonely child had tried to cheer herself and win the hearts of those about her.  She had the grace to blush, and offer back the necklace, saying in a self-reproachful tone,—­

“Keep your beads, little missionary, I’ll be converted without them, and try to be kinder to you.  I am a selfish wretch, but you shall play be my little sister, and not have to go to strangers for comfort in your trials any more.  Come, kiss me, dear, and we’ll begin now.”

Rosy was in her arms at once, and clung there, saying with a face all smiles,—­

“That’s what I wanted!  I thought I’d make a good savinge of you if I tried very hard.  Please be kind to me just till Mamma comes back, and I’ll be the best little sister that ever was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all about it before?” asked Cicely, smoothing the tired head on her shoulder with a new gentleness; for this last innocent confession had touched her heart as well as her conscience.