“Doen’t, Em’ly!” said Ham, tapping her gently on the shoulder. “Doen’t, my dear! You doen’t ought to cry so, pretty!”
“Oh, Ham!” she exclaimed, still weeping pitifully, “I am not so good a girl as I ought to be! I know I have not the thankful heart, sometimes, I ought to have!”
“Yes, yes, you have, I’m sure,” said Ham.
“No! no! no!” cried little Em’ly, sobbing, and shaking her head. “I am not as good a girl as I ought to be. Not near! not near!” And still she cried, as if her heart would break.
“I try your love too much. I know I do!” she sobbed. “I’m often cross to you, and changeable with you, when I ought to be far different. You are never so to me. Why am I ever so to you, when I should think of nothing but how to be grateful, and to make you happy!”
“You always make me so,”