"About what, Maggie?"
"About, about, – why about my loving Bessie and not letting any one hurt her. I'll ask papa to find one for me. He can find a verse in the Bible about everything. Oh, now I remember one myself. It's – little children love each other."
"And so you should," said Tom; "and it is very sweet to see two little sisters always so kind and loving to each other as you and Bessie are. But, Maggie, that verse does not mean that you should get into a quarrel with your other playmates for Bessie's sake; it means that you should love all little children. Of course you need not love Mamie as much as Bessie, but you ought to love her enough to make you kind to her. And there's another verse, – 'blessed are the peace-makers.' You were not a peace-maker when you slapped Mamie."
"I sha'n't be Mamie's peace-maker," said Maggie; "and, Tom, you ought to take my side and Bessie's; you are very unkind."
"Now don't be vexed, Midget," said Tom, sitting down on a large stone, and pulling Maggie on his knee. "I only want to show you that it did not make things any better for you to slap Mamie when she pinched Bessie. What happened next after you slapped her?"
"She slapped me," said Maggie; "and then I slapped her again, and Lily slapped her, too; it was just good enough for her."
"And what then?" asked Tom.
"Why Mamie screamed and ran and told her mother, and Mrs. Stone came and scolded us; and Jane showed her Bessie's arm, and she said she didn't believe Mamie meant to hurt Bessie."
"What a jolly row!" said Fred. "I wish I had been there to see."
"Nurse said she wished she had been there," said Maggie, "and she would have told Mrs. Stone – "
"Never mind that," said Tom; "there were quite enough in the quarrel without nurse. Now, Maggie, would it not have been far better if you had taken Bessie quietly away when Mamie hurt her?"
"No," said Maggie, "because then she wouldn't have been slapped, and she ought to be."
"Well, I think with you that Mamie was a very naughty girl, and deserved to be punished; but then it was not your place to do it."
"But her mother would not do it," said Maggie; "she is a weak, foolish woman, and is ruining that child."
The boys laughed, when Maggie said this with such a grand air.
"Who did you hear say that?" asked Harry.
"Papa," said Maggie, – "so it's true. I guess he didn't mean me to hear it, but I did."
"Oh, you little pitcher!" cried Harry; and Tom said, "Maggie dear, things may be quite right for your father to say, that would not be proper for us; because Mrs. Stone is a great deal older than we are; but since we all know that she does not take much pains to make Mamie a good and pleasant child, do you not think that this ought to make us more patient with her when she is fretful and quarrelsome?"
"No," said Maggie; "if her mother don't make her behave, some one else ought to. I will hurt her if she hurts Bessie."
"Maggie," said Tom, "when wicked men came to take Jesus Christ and carry him away to suffer a dreadful death on the cross, do you remember what one of the disciples did?"
"No; tell me," said Maggie.
"He drew his sword and cut off the ear of one of those wicked men; not because he was doing anything to him, but because he was ill-treating the dear Lord whom he loved."
"I'm glad of it," said Maggie; "it was just good enough for that bad man, and I love that disciple."
"But the Saviour was not glad," said Tom, "for he reproved the disciple, and told him to put up his sword; and he reached out his hand and healed the man's ear."
"That was because he was Jesus," said Maggie. "I couldn't be so good as Jesus."
"No, we cannot be as holy and good as Jesus, for he was without sin; but we can try to be like him, and then he will love us and be pleased with what he knows we wish to do. Maggie, the other day I heard you saying to your mother that pretty hymn, 'I am Jesus' Little Lamb;' now, if you are really one of Jesus' little lambs you will also be one of his blessed peace-makers. I think if you and Lily had not struck Mamie, she would have felt much more sorry and ashamed than she does now, when she thinks that you have hurt her as much as she hurt Bessie."
"Do you want me to be a peace-maker with Mamie, now?" asked Maggie.
"Yes, if you are not friends with her yet."
"Oh, no, we are not friends at all," said Maggie; "for she runs away every time she sees Lily or me; and we make faces at her."
"And do you like to have it so?"
"Yes," said Maggie slowly, "I think I do; I like to see her run."
"And do you think it is like Jesus' little lamb for you to feel so."
"No, I suppose not; I guess it's pretty naughty, and I won't make faces at her anymore. What shall I do to make friends, Tom?"
"Well," said Tom, "I cannot tell exactly; but suppose the next time that Mamie runs away from you, you call her to come and play with you; will not that show her that you wish to be at peace again?"
"Yes," said Maggie; "and if you think Jesus would want me to, I'll do it; but, Tom, we'll be very sorry if she comes. You don't know what an uncomfortable child she is to play with; she's as cross as – as cross as —nine sticks."
"Perhaps you'll find some other way," said Tom, who could not help smiling. "If we wish for a chance to do good to a person we can generally find one. But I must go, for there is father beckoning to me to come out in the boat with him. You will think of what I have said, will you not, Maggie?"
"Oh, yes I will, and I will do it too, Tom; and if Mamie pinches Bessie again, I won't slap her, but only give her a good push, and then we'll run away from her."
Tom did not think that this was exactly the way to make friends, but he had not time to say anything more, for his father was waiting.
V.
TOM'S SUNDAY-SCHOOL
"THERE'S Tom," said Maggie, on the next Sunday afternoon, as she looked out of the window; "he is talking to Mr. Jones, and now they are going to the barn. I wonder if he is going to swing on Sunday."
"Why, Maggie," said Bessie; "Tom wouldn't do such a thing."
"I thought maybe he forgot," said Maggie. "I forgot it was Sunday this morning, and I was just going to ask Mr. Jones to swing me. I wonder what they are doing. I can see in the door of the barn and they are busy with the hay. Come and look, Bessie."
Tom and Mr. Jones seemed to be very busy in the barn for a few minutes, but the little girls could not make out what they were doing. At last Tom came out and walked over to the house. Maggie and Bessie ran to meet him.
"Here you are," he said, "the very little people I wanted to see. I am going to have a Sunday-school class in the barn. Mr. Jones has given me leave, for I could find no place over at the hotel. We have been making seats in the hay. Will you come?"
"Oh, yes, indeed we will," said Maggie, clapping her hands.
Bessie shook her head sorrowfully. "Tom," she said, "mamma wont let me go to Sunday-school; she says I am too little."
"I think she will let you go to mine," said Tom; "we'll go and ask her."
They all went in together to the room where papa and mamma sat reading. "Mrs. Bradford," said Tom, when he had shaken hands with her, "I am going to hold a little Sunday-school class over in the barn; will you let Maggie and Bessie come?"
"Certainly," said Mrs. Bradford. "Who are you to have, Tom?"
"Only Lily, ma'am, and Mamie Stone, and a few more of the little ones from the hotel; they were running about and making a great noise in the hall and parlors, and I thought I could keep them quiet for a while if Mr. Jones would let me bring them over to his barn, and have a Sunday-school there. Walter is coming to help me."
"A