"_Where_ were you to-day, May?" inquired Helen, as soon as May closed the
door.

"I was at church--down town--up town--then I came home," said May,
cheerfully; "and more than that I do not think proper to disclose. But
let us prepare for bed. Dear Helen; we shall have to rise early in the
morning, and you must get all the sleep you can."

"May, my firm impression is that this sort of life will extinguish me,"
said Helen, solemnly; "that horrid old man will certainly tear me to
pieces, or bite off my head. Indeed--indeed, I am more afraid of him
than any thing I ever saw."

"What nonsense! It will do you good. You will soon learn to have an aim
in life; it will drive you for comfort where only comfort can be found,
and you will learn patience, forbearance and meekness, long-suffering,
and charity."

"Like yourself, I presume!" said Helen, with a slight sneer.

"Oh, no! oh no, dear Helen; did I say any thing like that? I did not
mean it, for I am very often angered and impatient, and on the very eve
of breaking out; but I don't."

"And why don't you? Do you expect to inherit the old man's gold?"

"Helen, I never think of it. I have a higher motive, I trust. My
peculiar trials give me so many opportunities of learning the rudiments
of Christian virtue; therefore, after the first sting is over, I feel