but, if your life is spared, before you know it, child, you will be an
old lady like Aunt Ruth.

"In those young days I was in a spelling-class, at school, with a little
girl named Amy, a sweet-tempered, sensitive child, and a very good
scholar. She seemed disposed to cling to me, and I could not well resist
her loving friendship. Yet I did not quite like her, because she often
went above me in the class, when, but for her, I should have stood at
the head.

"Poor Amy could not account for my occasional coolness, for I was too
proud to let her know the reason. I had been a truthful child, Bessie,
but envy tempted me, and I yielded. I sometimes tried to prejudice the
other girls against Amy, and this was the beginning of my deceit. She
was too timid to defend herself, and so I usually carried my point.

"One day our teacher gave out to us the word, _believe_. In her usual
low voice, Amy spelt _'b-e-l-i-e-v-e, believe.'_ Her teacher
misunderstanding her said, quickly, 'Wrong--the next;' but turning to
her again, asked, 'Did you not spell it _l-e-i-v-e?'_

"'No ma'am, I said _l-i-e-v-e_,'

"Miss R----, still in doubt, looking at me, inquired, 'You heard, Ruth;
how was it?'

"A wicked thought occurred to me,--to disgrace her, and raise myself.
Deliberately I uttered a gross falsehood, 'Amy said _l-e-i-v-e_,'

"The teacher turned toward Amy, who stood, silent, distressed and