"Oh, Charlotte!" said Annie, "that would be a great deal worse than not
giving anything, for it would not only be a falsehood, but you would
tempt God to make you sick. I know you do not mean what you say."

"You always take everything so seriously," replied the other, laughing
and looking a little ashamed. "But what are you going to do, Annie? Your
mother cannot give you anything; but I am sure she would if she had it,
she is so kind, and never scolds. I wish mother was so always."

"I have been thinking," returned Annie, "that if I take the two hours
mother gives me to play in the garden, and card wool for her, as she has
more than she can do this week, perhaps she will give me two or three
pennies. I wish I could earn more, but I will do what I can."

"Maybe your mother will let me help her too," said Charlotte, eagerly;
"but I have so little time to play that I could not earn much, and I
would be ashamed to give so little. I would rather put in more than any
one, it would please the teacher and make the girls envy me."

"I am sure," answered Annie, gently, "the teacher would not like us to
do anything that would make another envy us, because that is a very
wicked and unhappy feeling, and though she might be pleased to see us
put in so much, yet it is God whom we are seeking to serve, and he looks
at the heart, and knows our feelings. He tells us not to give alms to be
seen of men, and you remember, Charlotte, what the superintendent said
about the widow's mite, which pleased Jesus, though the gift was so
small."

"You speak like a superintendent yourself," cried Charlotte, gaily, "but
ask your mother, Annie, and I will come over to-night and hear what she