‘My good mother used to help me—’

‘As you do us—’ interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss.

‘But I lost her when I was a little older than you are, and for years had to struggle on alone, for I was too proud to confess my weakness to any one else. I had a hard time, Jo, and shed a good many bitter tears over my failures; for, in spite of my efforts, I never seemed to get on. Then your father came, and I was so happy that I found it easy to be good. But by and by, when I had four little daughters round me, and we were poor, then the old trouble began again; for I am not patient by nature, and it tried me very much to see my children wanting anything.’

‘Poor mother! what helped you then?’

‘Your father, Jo. He never loses patience,—never doubts or complains,—but always hopes, and works and waits so cheerfully, that one is ashamed to do otherwise before him. He helped and comforted me, and showed me that I must try to practise all the virtues I would have my little girls possess, for I was their example. It was easier to try for your sakes than for my own; a startled or surprised look from one of you, when I spoke sharply, rebuked me more than any words could have done; and the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy.’

‘Oh, mother! if I’m ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied,’ cried Jo, much touched.

‘I hope you will be a great deal better, dear; but you must keep watch over your “bosom enemy,” as father calls it, or it may sadden, if not spoil your life. You have had a warning; remember it, and try with heart and soul to master this quick temper, before it brings you greater sorrow and regret than you have known today.’

‘I will try, mother; I truly will. But you must help me, remind me, and keep me from flying out. I used to see father sometimes put his finger on his lips, and look at you with a very kind, but sober face; and you always folded your lips tight, or went away; was he reminding you then?’ asked Jo, softly.

‘Yes; I asked him to help me so, and he never forgot it, but saved me from many a sharp word by that little gesture and kind look.’

Jo saw that her mother’s eyes filled, and her lips trembled, as she spoke; and, fearing that she had said too much, she whispered anxiously, ‘Was it wrong to watch you, and to speak of it? I didn’t mean to be rude, but it’s so comfortable to say all I think to you, and feel so safe and happy here.’

‘My Jo, you may say anything to your mother, for it is my greatest happiness and pride to feel that my girls confide in me, and know how much I love them.’