Mother had taught me the Catechism through and through from almost my babyhood, and I knew my way about in it blindfold, if one may speak so. As I say, I was thinking already of my Confirmation, and all the teaching I'd had before; and these words seemed to bring back a great wave-like of the feelings I'd had then, and how I had longed and resolved always to do right and to please God.
"I think you have forgotten that lately, Kitty," says Mr. Armstrong.
I whispered a "Yes."
"Forgotten everything except just having your own will," says he. "Nothing surer to land one in evil than putting first how to please self. If the thought of pleasing God comes second, it soon ends by being nowhere."
And I said "Yes" again, for I knew it was true.
He spoke most beautiful to me after that, not putting a great many questions, but talking in a gentle way, like a father might talk. He said how grieved and disappointed my father and mother were, and how good they'd always been to me, and how sad it was I should grieve them. That made my tears come fast, and he stopped and looked at me.
"No," said he. "She is not hardened. It isn't hardness." And then he says, "Kitty," says he, "you want to get back into the right road, don't you? I know you do," says he.
"Yes," I whispered.
"And you are sorry too," says he.
I said "Yes" again.