half a dollar per week; and at the same time teaching a sister, something more than two years younger, thee multiplication-table—Susan Aikin sat by, her vigilant eye seeing every thing, and her kind voice interposing, as often as the wants or claims of the children rendered her interference necessary. Her most difficult duty seemed to be to keep in due order a restless, noisy little fellow, William, the twin brother of her eldest girl, whom she was teaching to write, while at the same time she was tailoring and instructing in her art a young girl, who had just set the last stitch in a vest of the most costly material, and was holding it up for inspection; a slight anxiety, till she heard the approving word, tempering her conscious success. Susan scrutinized every part of it, every seam, button-hole, and button; and then said—
"There's not a fault in it—I could not do one better myself, Agnes."
Agnes burst into tears; Anne looked up from her work inquiringly; little Mary exclaimed, "Such a big girl cry!" Willie said, "She is not really crying;" and the baby stretched out its neck, and put up its lips to offer a kiss of consolation, which Agnes took, smiling through her tears, and saying, "Oh, I'm only crying because your mother has been so good to me!"
"Well," shouted Willie, "that's a funny thing to cry for !"
"That was not all, Willie," said his mother; "Agnes cries because she has been good herself."
"That's funnier yet; we never cry only when we are naughty."
Mrs. Aikin solved the riddle, and so will we,
