AND THE ROSEBUDS.
parlor, with a nicely washed face and smooth hair, to say her lesson, and hem a duster, she became more and more shy.
'The poor child's been used to such a roving life,' said Sally, 'that she don't take as kindly as might be to her books. She doesn't learn as easy as other children.'
'And that's the very reason why I'm so particular,' replied the mistress. 'I wonder, Sally, to hear you talk as if you wished her to be excused.'
'I don't know as I do wish that,' said Sally humbly, for she had a great idea of her mistress's good sense; 'but, ma'am, she's such a little one, and you see we often wants excusing ourselves.'
The mistress was a severe person; and though she heartily loved little Rie, and did not mind what trouble she took with her, she could not bear that the child should see any fondness in her manner, lest, as she said, 'she should take advantage.' What she had told her once she expected her to remember; and, above all, she could not bear deception; for she was very upright herself, and expected others to be so too.
But poor little Rie had been used to hard usage, and it was some time before she could be taught that she must speak the truth and confess her faults, whatever might be the consequences. Deceit, once taught to a young child by fear, is not easily eradicated, and Sally thought nothing but kindness could do it; but then Sally had such a foolish way with her, and was all for kindness and making excuses for people, not sufficiently considering what was just, and not being willing to condemn anybody without such a deal of
