"I guess they did," said her papa. "And you must remember that eyes are very precious things, and be careful of them. If I should give you a little white-handled penknife—"
"O papa! I wish you would!"
"If I gave you one, would it be right for you to cut off one of your little fingers with it?"
"Why, no, papa!"
"And is it right to injure the eyes God has been so very kind as to give you?"
"No, papa. And I won't, again."
"But what are they looking so hard at my pocket for?" asked her papa, smiling.
"Why, I thought perhaps there was a little knife there," said Susy, rather doubtfully.
"And so there is. It was given me to-day, and I will give it to you. Only you must promise not to open it. For you are such a little girl that I do not dare to let you use it yet."
Susy promised, and her papa took her on one shoulder and Robbie on the other, and "rided" them as Robbie called it, three times across the room, and then they kissed each other good night, and Susy and her box of beads and her little knife all went to bed together.