ONE Friday morning Lettie sat on the portico steps, learning her Sabbath-school verses. Over and over, to fix it in her memory, she repeated the words, "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." Not far from her, Dallas, her brother, was busily engaged in trying to make a kite from a collection before him of pink tissue paper, sticks, and strings. His face was very red, and his forehead was drawn into an ugly frown as he impatiently exclaimed:— 

"Ah! What is the matter?" 

"I'll tell, you what's the matter, Dallas," answered Lettie. "Your paste is too thin, and you have not cut your sticks fine enough." 

"What do you know about it? Girls do not fly kites;" and Dallas made an ugly face at his sister. 

"But I am sure the paste is not right," Lettie said. "I watched mamma making fire-screens the 

other day, and yours is not like what she used. 

Let me fix it for you," and coming to his side, she stooped to pick up the paste-cup. 

But Dallas was thoroughly out of humor,—angry with himself for not being skillful enough to make 

the kite, and angry with his sister for presuming to teach him. 

"Oh yes! You think yourself very smart, don't you?" he spitefully exclaimed, and gave her a push, 

which knocked her over. 

When he saw what he had done, he plunged his hands into his pockets and walked off whistling 

into the orchard. 

Lettie got up, her arm hurt by the fall, and her feelings still more hurt by such rough treatment, and called out after Dallas:— 

"Oh, you rude, naughty boy; I shall tell mamma how you have acted, and she will keep you in 

this afternoon." 

She looked after him for a moment, and then sat down and began again to learn her verse. As she studied, the words, "Be not overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good," seemed somehow to grow in meaning to her mind. She ceased their repetition, and remained quiet for a while, her head resting on her hand, and her blue eyes looking very thoughtful. Then she arose from her seat, put away her Bible, picked up the paste-cup, and went into the kitchen. There she took some flour out of a firkin, thickened the paste, cooked it a while on the stove, and then went back to the porch and began to work on the forsaken kite. 

Meantime, Dallas walked on through the orchard in a very independent manner, taking no notice of Lettie's words, although he heard them very distinctly. He crossed the meadow, sat down on a stone beside the brook, and tried to amuse himself by throwing pebbles into the water. But he got tired of 

that, and began to be sorry that he had been ever  so naughty to his sister. 

He wished he had let her help him with the kite, for he wanted one very much. His cousins were coming to spend the afternoon with them, and his mother would keep him in as a punishment for his rude conduct. He felt very uncomfortable. He stayed there a good while thinking about it. He was every moment more convinced that he had behaved badly and foolishly. He walked slowly to the house, and on reaching the porch, was surprised to see his sister's curly head bent over her work on the kite. She looked up as he came toward her, with a sly glance, as if she were not sure he would be pleased; then rose and handed Dallas the kite—and such a kite! 

It was covered with pink, and trimmed with tassels and fringe of white tissue paper, and dotted with gilt stars, which Lettie had fashioned from her paper doll dresses. 

"O Lettie!" Dallas exclaimed, "how could you do all that for me, when I was so naughty to you?" 

and he put his arms around her neck and kissed her. 

So Dallas enjoyed his holiday flying his kite with his little cousins, and Lettie learned the blessedness of overcoming evil with good.

—The Myrtle.