But Minnie only sobbed the louder for some time. At last, she was able to restrain her tears enough to tell him her troubles. He then soothed her young heart, and told her to remember the little tree and the storms; and that this was one of the trials which were to fit her to endure the storms of her future life; and he told her she must bear it bravely.
Minnie smiled through her tears. Her heart grew strong again as she thought of that little tree, and she said,—
"I will try, dear pa; but, O, it is hard to have such stories told about me, and to have the girls treat me so."
"Yes, Minnie, it is a very severe trial. But, if you bear it bravely, and ask God to make you strong to suffer, and especially if you do not indulge any harsh feeling against Lillia, it will do you good in the end."
Just then some bright eyes were seen peeping through the railing of the yard. Jeannie had found the other girls, and all three of them had come to tell Minnie they did not believe Lillia. Fanny and Rhoda asked her to forgive them for not speaking to her, and promised not to believe ill of her any more.
Minnie's eyes grew bright now. The storm was over, and the sun shone in her heart as brightly as ever. Good, kind, gentle Minnie!
The summer, with its bright suns, birds, flowers, fruits, and pleasures, had passed swiftly away. Winter, with its snows, storms, and long evenings, had arrived, and Christmas, merry Christmas, was at hand. Minnie, her father and her mother, were seated in the parlor, around a bright wood fire, which blazed and crackled away in good old-fashioned style. Minnie was busied with a puzzling sum, knitting her little white brow, and pursing her pretty red lips, as she vainly tried to solve it. Her father, after watching her for some time, said to her,—
"Minnie!"