girl like me!'

By this time Mr Maurice had unwound the cord and unfolded the paper, and
displayed a neat little book--what think you it was? 'Peter Parley's
Stories,' says one, 'The Love Token,' says another. No, you are both
wrong. Effie Maurice was almost a woman before these books were written.
Mrs Sherwood was then the children's friend, and some beautiful stories
she told them, too. The book had neither pictures, nor gilt letters, but
this did not spoil it for Effie, and she was soon so busily engaged in
reading that she forgot that there was anything in the world but herself
and the delightful book--more still, she forgot even her own existence,
and thought only of the people about whom she was reading. A half-hour
passed away and then Mrs Maurice reminded Effie of her room, and told
her it had better be put in order.

'Yes, mother, in a few minutes.' The few minutes passed away, and Mrs
Maurice spoke again.

'I will, mother.' Mrs Maurice saw that Effie forgot these words almost
as soon as spoken, but instead of telling her at once to put up the
book, and do as she was bidden, she allowed her to pursue her own course
for this once, hoping by this means to cure her of a very bad habit.

Soon after, Mrs Maurice descended to the kitchen to give some
directions, and Effie was left alone. Once the thought entered her mind
that she had promised to visit Mrs Gilman that day, but she immediately
concluded another time would do as well, and so continued her reading.
After a while Harry, who had been out with his father, entered in great
haste, with a packet of medicine in his hand.