But though she tried to read, she could not forget that question. At first she determined to shake it off, but by-and-by her book fell closed on to her lap, and she looked up straight at the words, thoughtfully.
"This is the first way I am keeping my resolves; a pretty way!"
"Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?"
Then she waited, as her father had said—waited, looking at the words as if they would shine out with an answer. And so they did; for as her eyes rested on the last word, she suddenly started up.
"Do," she said, half aloud. "I don't suppose He likes me to sit here idling my time. I wonder if Agnes wants me? Or if not, I promised mother to practise a whole hour every day, and as I am going out to dinner I shall have to do that first."
Then her eyes met Minnie's wondering ones shining out from among the golden curls and crimson sofa cushion, and she heard a little voice say:
"Who wants you to 'do'?"
Alice pointed with her finger towards the text.
"Oh!" said Minnie, comprehending.
"But I didn't remember you were there, or I should not have spoken aloud."