especially Lizzie.'

'But she wants brightness and animation,' said Anne, 'and she so
often looks dismal and fretful, that I cannot fancy admiring her.'

'There has never been much sympathy between you and Helen,' said Lady
Merton, smiling.

'No,' said Anne, 'I never felt as if I knew or liked her. I believe
Rupert and I were very unkind to her in our younger days; but, oh!
she was the most tiresome whining child I ever knew.'

'I believe that, though she was too young to know it,' said Lady
Merton, 'poor little Helen suffered more from your aunt's death than
either of her sisters.'

'How so, Mamma?' said Anne, looking rather alarmed.

'She was a very delicate baby, requiring a great deal of care,' said
Lady Merton; 'indeed, we have always thought that your aunt laid the
foundation of her illness, by sitting up with her while she was
cutting her large teeth, and during your aunt's illness, it was
painful to see how the poor child missed her. And after her mother
died, though Helen had grown strong and healthy, old Margaret still
made her the pet; and uncertain nursery treatment, without her
mother's firm kindness, was not the best cure for such a temper as
hers.'

'Yes,' said Anne, 'I remember she was always called Baby, and allowed
to have her own way, till she was six years old, when Horace was