THE GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY.
'Why do you wish to go, Orris?' she inquired.
'To buy the Testament, mamma, for poor Tim.'
'He is gone, said my mother; 'he went away early this morning.'
I put on my garden bonnet, and went out, with a curious sensation, as if, when I did wrong, all circumstances conspired to punish me. I turned the corner of the greenhouse, and there stood my father, looking at the broken panes.
'Orris,' he said, 'did you do this mischief?'
'Yes, papa.'
'This is the third time it has happened. I have repeatedly forbidden you to play in this part of the garden.'
'I am very sorry, papa.'
'Your sorrow will not mend the glass, and I am afraid it will not make you more obedient another time.'
He spoke so gravely, that I knew he really was displeased. After a pause, he said,
'Have you got any money?'
'I have a shilling, papa, and a penny.'
'It will cost more than that to repair this damage; I shall be obliged to claim forfeit of the shilling.'
I wiped away two or three tears, and produced my little silk bag; he turned it over, and bit his lips; perhaps its elaborate workmanship made him understand that a shilling was much more for me to give up than for him to receive.
'Is this all you have got?' he inquired.
'Excepting the penny, papa,' I replied; and, child as I was, I perfectly understood his vexation at having
