"Forgive you, my darling!" she answered, almost crying. "Why, dear Tom, I always forgive you; I never think of it again."
"No," he answered softly, stroking her face as she again knelt down by him, "I know you have forgiven me; but that has not made me right in being so cross; I will try to be better, dear mamma."
"My own little Tom, I wish you had not so much to suffer."
"Well, mamma, I've told Jesus about it, and He has told me He'll help me; and so now I am not going to be sad about it any more."
Mrs. Arundel clasped her arms tenderly round him, and pressed him to her.
"You could not give me more joyful news, my darling," she said, while some of the happiest tears she had ever shed fell down upon his face.
"Are you crying, mamma?" he asked, putting up his little hand to feel her face. Then burying his own in her neck, he wept too, till all the pent-up sorrow and discontent of his little life seemed to melt away, and he was at peace.
At last his mother whispered, "When was it, Tom dear, you told Jesus?"
"This morning, mamma, Christina was talking to me about Him, and all at once I felt as if I must go to Him then, and I did. Dear mamma, now kiss me; give me a good-night kiss, dear mamma; a real forgiving good-night kiss!"
