“O, I WISH ____”—A CONVERSATION TALK ON ENVY

Bess was talking with her Aunt Kate. “O, I wish,” said she, “that I were Lucy Waldron. What a lovely face she has! Every one admires her beauty. And then what superb dresses! and what fine books she has to read!—the very latest story books, in the prettiest bindings. And her father has just given her a new pony; she drives it every day. And then the parties she gives! and the fine house she has to live in! Everything a girl could possibly wish for. O, I wish I were Lucy Waldron.”

Aunt Kate laughed. “Why, Bess,” said she, “haven’t you noticed the expression on Lucy’s beautiful face? Would you care to have her frowns in place of your freckles, even if her pretty complexion were thrown in?”

“Why, no,” said Bess; “I want her features without the expression she gives them, of course.”

“And then those lovely dresses of hers,” continued Aunt Kate; “they are all made by a dressmaker, you know, partly because she is rich, and partly because she has no mother to make them for her. The dresses your mother makes for you are not quite so fine, but you have your mother to make them. Would you trade her for Lucy’s dressed?”

“Why, Aunt Kate!” cried Bess, reproachfully.

“And then those handsome books of hers. Where does she stand in her classes?”

“Why, at the foot, almost always,” said Bess.

“You surely wouldn’t trade your bright mind for her dull one, though you got all her fine books to boot, would you?”

“Certainly not. I should want to keep my brain, and have her books to read, too.”

“And then Lucy’s pony. Her father gave it to her, you know, to get her outdoors, and try to bring some roses into her pale cheeks. Would you exchange your health for her pony? I am sure you would not. And as to her large parties; does she make many friends by them?”

“Why, no; there is hardly a girl in school who has so few friends.”

“While you, Bess, have throngs of friends around you wherever you go, even if you do give very few parties. And Lucy’s fine house, with its soft carpets, and gay mirrors, and magnificent pictures, and lots of servants, is a gloomy place to her because there is no love in it. Why, I am certain that if you were transplanted to that home you wouldn’t have a happy day.”

“No,” agreed Bess; “I should be perfectly miserable, of course, without you there, and mother, and father, and the rest of us. I wouldn’t change with Lucy for anything. I am ashamed of myself. I will stop envying Lucy, and I really believe that I ought to pity her.”