'Why did you refuse to say them when nurse told you to?'
'Because Molly was saying her prayers.'
'Well, what had that to do with it?'
Betty did not answer.
'Answer me.'
The child looked round; nurse had left the room. She worked her little foot backwards and forwards in the long-haired rug rather nervously, and then, almost in a whisper, said,—
'God couldn't listen to both of us, and I wanted Him to listen to me.'
Mrs. Stuart gazed perplexedly at her little daughter, then laughed.
'You are a little goose! Go and say your prayers at once, and get into bed. I have come here to talk to nurse.'
Betty crept away. Her mother's amused laugh had hurt her more than nurse's scoldings. It was hard to have one's secret feelings brought to light and scoffed at, and her sensitive little soul felt this, though in a dim, uncertain way.