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CHAPTER XI.

IT was Sunday evening, Mr. and Mrs. Craven were down stairs at dinner, Ada was lying on the sofa by the fire, with Margaret sitting at her feet.

"Margaret," said she, "what are all those little books about, in that corner of your top drawer?"

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They are books that aunt Ellen gave me," replied Margaret; "some of them are little story books."

"Are they pretty?" said Ada.

"Yes; this one is very pretty indeed," replied Margaret, getting up and taking one out of the drawer, "it is about a little girl who was ill like you, Ada."

"Is it? I wish you would read it to me. I feel as if I should like to go to sleep, and reading makes me do so sometimes."

Margaret willingly complied; Ada did not go to sleep, but when she had listened for a quarter of an hour exclaimed, "Did she die, Margaret?

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"Yes," replied Margaret, "at the end of the book."

"Then what did you begin to read it to me for," said Ada. "I do not want to I cannot bear to hear about

hear any more.

people dying."

"She was very happy, Ada dear," said Margaret gently.

"I do not care, I do not want to hear about it," said Ada, almost pettishly, and Margaret closed the book and put it away.

The next Sunday afternoon they were alone together. Ada was on the couch, and Margaret on the ottoman by her side. "Read me something, Margaret," said Ada.

"What shall I read, dear?" said Margaret.

"One of those stories out of that new story book papa bought me the other day," replied Ada.

"But I do not think that is a Sunday book, dear Ada,” said Margaret, very gently, "it would not be right to read it to-day, you know."

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Papa did not say it was not a Sunday book," replied Ada in her old pettish manner, "and you have no right to set yourself up against him."

"I did not mean to do that, Ada, but papa did not say it was a Sunday book," replied Margaret.

"Well, you are very disagreeable,” said Ada, in the same tone in which she had before spoken; "I wish I could sit up a little better without coughing, I would read a story for myself."

There was silence for a little while. Ada closed her eyes, Margaret sat with her head on her hand looking at her, and apparently thinking about her; then she said (it was the first time she had ever made such a proposal, and she had to summon up all her courage to do it now), "Ada dear, I wish you would let me read something to you out of the Bible-about Elijah being

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