little--unmanageable."

"Indeed they are not," cried Prudence loyally. "They are young,
lively, mischievous, I know,--and I am glad of it. But I have lived
with them ever since they were born, and I ought to know them. They
are unselfish, they are sympathetic, they are always generous. They do
foolish and irritating things,--but never things that are hateful and
mean. They are all right at heart, and that is all that counts. They
are not bad girls! What have they done to-day? They were
exasperating, and humiliating, too, but what did they do that was
really mean? They embarrassed and mortified me, but not intentionally!
I can't punish them for the effect on me, you know! Would that be just
or fair? At heart, they meant no harm."

It must be confessed that there were many serious faces among the
Ladies. Some cheeks were flushed, some eyes were downcast, some lips
were compressed and some were trembling. Every mother there was asking
in her heart, "Did I punish my children just for the effect on me? Did
I judge my children by what was in their hearts, or just by the trouble
they made me?"

And the silence lasted so long that it became awkward. Finally Mrs.
Prentiss crossed the room and stood by Prudence's side. She laid a
hand tenderly on the young girl's arm, and said in a voice that was
slightly tremulous:

"I believe you are right, my dear. It is what girls are at heart that
really counts. I believe your sisters are all you say they are. And
one thing I am very sure of,--they are happy girls to have a sister so
patient, and loving, and just. Not all real mothers have as much to