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bona fide.

"Lucy Lee," said Ferris, "you know you have the dishes to do to-day; it's my Sunday out."

"But I did not have my Sunday out last Sunday, you know, Mrs. Ferris."

"That was not my fault."

"Nor was it mine," said Lucy, who had the strongest motive for maintaining her rights. "Sophy wanted to go out, and Mrs. Ardley said if I would stay and amuse the children I should go home to-day." And Lucy had well earned the performance of the promise, for Mrs. Ardley said she "had never known the children so quiet—she and Mr. Ardley had both got their Sunday's nap without once hearing them." The secret of this was, that Lucy, finding it sorely against her conscience to pass the sacred day in picking up ninepins and dressing dolls, had kept the children still, and most happy too, by telling them Sunday stories she had heard from her mother. Ferris left the kitchen for a few moments, and presently the bell rung twice, the summons for Lucy. "Lucy, I am sorry to disappoint you," said Mrs. Ardley, "but I entirely forgot it was Ferris's Sunday out."

"Can't I set the dishes aside, ma'am, and wash them when I come home?"

"No, Lucy. Nothing puts Ferris out so much