"She will be better soon, I think. Tell me how it all happened, my child."
A few questions drew forth the sad little tale. In his mind, the Vicar silently blamed Mildred even more than Hecla, for she was the older girl, and she had no business to ask the others to go with her, or to neglect Ivy when near the river. But he had at this moment only to do with Hecla's share.
"I didn't, didn't mean to be naughty," sobbed Hecla. "But I did want so very much to go—and—auntie—"
"If you had just waited to think, and had put up one little prayer to be kept from doing what was wrong, all this might have been avoided."
Hecla sighed and nestled into that kind encircling arm.
"Mrs. Prue says—Mrs. Prue says—Ivy perhaps won't ever be properly herself again."
"Mrs. Prue is anxious, no doubt, as we all are; but I hope there is no fear of that. The doctor says Ivy is doing nicely now."
"Does he? I'm so glad." Then after a break. "And Elisabeth says—says—"
"Yes."
"She says, God doesn't love me, because I'm so naughty."