My dearly loved Julia:—
Not very long ago your energetic little hands undertook to arrange my bureau drawers for me. Coming in suddenly I misunderstood the disorder of my room, and drove you from it angrily. It was wrong; I am sorry for it; I have asked God to forgive me, and now I ask you to forgive your poor, faulty
Mother.
"I'll bet she is going to die," said Bob. "Never knew her to do anything like that before. I've been an awfully horrid fellow. I wish I hadn't."
"I've been horrid, too," said Julia. "And I wish I hadn't."
"You've been splendid compared with me," said Bob.
"Let's go and tell Esther," suggested Julia.
"What for? She won't care."
"You seem to think she's a heathen Chinee," said Julia.
"So she is, sometimes. But not always."