"Mother's cross!" said Maggie, coming out into the kitchen with a pout on her lips. Her aunt was busy ironing, and she looked up and answered Maggie: "Then it is the very time for you to be pleasant and helpful. Mother was awake a great deal in the night with the poor baby." Maggie made no reply. She put on her hat and walked off into the garden. But a new idea went with her. "The very time to be helpful and pleasant is when other people are cross. True enough," thought she, "that would do the most good. I remember when I was sick last year, I was so nervous that if any one spoke to me, I could hardly help being cross; and mother never got cross or out of patience, but was just as pleasant with me! I ought to pay it back now, and I will." And she sprang up from the grass where she had thrown herself, and turned a face full of cheerful resolution towards the room where her mother sat soothing and tending a fretful teething baby. "Couldn't I take him out to ride in his carriage, mother? It's such a nice morning," she asked. "I should be so glad if you would!" said her mother. The hat and sacque were brought, and the baby was soon ready for his ride. "I'll keep him as long as he's good," said Maggie, "and you must lie on the sofa and take a nap while I am gone. You are looking dreadfully tired!" The kind words and the kiss that accompanied them were almost too much for the mother, and her voice trembled as she answered: "Thank you, dear, it will do me a world of good too. My head aches badly this morning." What a happy heart in Maggie's bosom as she trundled the little carriage up and down on the walk. She resolved to remember and act on her aunt's good word: "The very time to be helpful and pleasant is when everybody is tired and cross." — Well-Spring.