little one. But Emma continued to fret and cry on.

"It's so cold, mamma!" she said. "It's so cold, and I'm hungry!"

"Don't cry, dear," again urged the mother. "I'll make the fire up
nice and warm in a little while, and then you shall have something
good to eat."

But--"It's so cold, mamma! it's so cold, and I'm hungry!" was the
continued and incessant complaint of the poor child.

All this time, Ella had been busily engaged in peeling her orange,
and dividing it into four quarters.

"See here, Emma! Look what I've got!" she said, in a lively,
cheerful tone, as soon as her orange had been properly divided.
"Come, cover up in bed here with me, until the fire's made, and you
shall have this nice bit of orange."

Emma's complaints ceased in a moment, and she turned toward her
sister, and clambered upon the bed.

"And here's a piece for you, Henry, and a piece for mother, too,"
continued Ella, reaching out two other portions.

"No, dear, keep it for yourself. I don't want it," said the mother.

"And Emma shall have my piece," responded Henry; "she wants it worse
than I do."