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Emily, I find you sent four collars to the wash last week, and that is a great deal too many for any little girl; two collars a-week are quite enough for any one and remember, if you ever send more, you must pay for them out of your own pocketmoney. But what have you there?-come here, child."

Emily approached, grasping the book, which in her fright she had forgotten to conceal, and Mrs. Kingby took it out of Emily's hands, and putting on her spectacles she examined it. Little Emily was dreadfully frightened, for she remembered Clara had expressly told her that she must not let any one see it; so there she stood before Mrs. Kingby, looking as guilty as possible. In the meantime Mrs. Kingby examined the book inside and outside, and then lifting up her eyes, asked Emily,

"Who gave you this book?" No answer.

"Tell me directly who gave you this book," repeated Mrs. Kingby.

Then little Emily said, "Clara," in the lowest tone, and burst into tears.

"Then send Clara Regstein to me directly," said Mrs. Kingby, and Emily left the room.

Clara was still upon her bench reading when the sobbing child reached her; Clara looked up: then as she saw the weeping child before her, and without the book, the whole truth flashed upon her mind, and she screamed out, "What have you done with the book?"

Emily related the mournful history, and Clara followed her in despair to Mrs. Kingby.

Clara turned quite white as she entered into the awful presence, and stood almost motionless, while Mrs. Kingby gave her a long lecture on the impropriety of reading novels at school; putting the disobedience out of the question. When Mrs. Kingby had concluded, Clara felt that she was right, though she was far too sulky and too much vexed to say so, and she left the room

pouting and sulky, without uttering a single word, either in her own defence, or of penitence.

By dint of vigorous inquiries Mrs. Kingby found out that Ann had been bribed by Miss Regstein to get the books, and this made her a great deal more angry. Clara was sent for again, and Mrs. Kingby explained to her, with great patience and even kindness, how doubly wrong and selfish it was to make other people sin for us; that we should learn to restrain our own desires, and above all not to gratify them at other people's expense; that we should respect all those who were placed over us and obey them; and that we should endeavour to improve our servants and those beneath us, and not to corrupt them. All this she said, and a great deal more, kindly, gently, and wisely, and yet Clara stood silent before her with lowering brows, looking as sulky and obstinate as possible; and as if she were scarcely listening. Mrs. Kingby saw this, and so she changed her tone.

"I was in hopes, Miss Regstein," said she, "that your penitence would have enabled me to dispense with taking away any of your tickets, for as I am aware that you are trying to gain the prize, I know how valuable they must be to you ; but since nothing I can say seems to produce any impression, I shall be obliged to take away your tickets that you may remember in future that obedience is due to me."

This did produce an effect. Clara thought of course she should lose her tickets anyhow, but now when she found that if she had behaved more amiably, she would have lost nothing, she felt most excessively provoked, and the instant Mrs. Kingby said, "Now you may go," Clara retired to her own room and threw herself into a chair in a most frightful fit of ill-humour.