CORNER COTTAGE AND ITS INMATES. CHAPTER I. THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. RS. WENTWORTH kept a little fancy shop, and lived at the extreme end of a village where there was no railway station. Her children thought there could not possibly be any place pleasanter than their home, nor any way of living more comfortable. They did not mind hard work they were so strong and able in that sweet, fresh country air; and they B loved to feel that they could be of some use to their mother. They did not grumble at their plain food, for their appetites were so good, that a basin of porridge, a meal of bread and dripping, or occasionally some fresh-gathered fruit to eat with their bread, by way of pudding, made sufficient variety for them from day to day; and they were contented and happy; thankful that they had sufficient to eat, and giving no thought to luxuries which were unattainable. Concerning their clothes, perhaps somewhat might be said; for although Mrs. Wentworth had taught them in that as well as other matters to "be content with such things as they had," still the shabbiness of their garments would occasionally cause a little uneasiness; and although every thing was well mended and scrupulously clean, there were many sighs and puzzled looks of distress over patches which, in spite of all contrivance, would show themselves, and darns which no skill in needlework could induce to look as if they covered thin places instead of holes. Nevertheless, as they knew their mother had no money to purchase new clothes, the two girls took upon themselves to look after their brother, who was the youngest, and who forgot sometimes to be quite so careful as he might have been. Boys, you know, do forget more than girls; they get so intent upon their work or play, that dirt or damage to jackets and trousers never enters their heads, and if they do get dirty, a little brushing over elbows and knees is supposed to make all right again. Frank Wentworth was just such a boy; but his sisters loved him dearly, and |