Fred meant to give it up, but he
meant to tease his sister first, and Edith, who had no patience to wait,
snatched at the book. Fred of course resisted, and it was not until the
book had been nearly parted from its cover, and some damage had ensued
to the dress and hair of both parties that Edith regained possession;
not _peaceable_ possession, however, for both of the children's spirits
were ruffled.
Edith flew to her room almost as fast as if she had been on the "Flying
Trunk," in the Fairy Tale. When there, she could not read, and in
displeasure with herself and with every one, dashed the little volume
away and cried long and bitterly. Edith had not been an insensible
spectator of the constantly and self-denying gentle conduct of Emilie.
Her example, far more than her precepts, had affected her powerfully,
but she had much to contend with, and it seemed to her as if at the very
times she meant to be kind and gentle something occurred to put her out.
"I _will_ try, oh, I will try," said Edith again and again, "but it is
such hard work.
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