"Yes, mamma. Will Christ be there?"
This child, through her whole life, invariably spoke of God as Christ.
"Yes, dear, He will be there, and will look at my little Mabel, and know if she is quiet. But you will not see Him; no one does that."
And then turning to Margaret, she said:
"Have you ever taken a little child to church?"
"Oh, no! I wasn't born among such luxuries."
"As a general rule, it is anything but a luxury to break these little colts in. They are accustomed to have liberty of action and of speech at home; they do not understand the services at church, they get tired, they nestle, and, if allowed, will whisper, on an average, once in three minutes. Now, if Mabel whispers to you, take no notice whatever; be lost in attention to what is going on. I lay great stress on this. If my children go to church, they shall not distract me or annoy others."
This reminded Margaret of many and many a scene she had witnessed at church, and supposed, as far as she had thought of it at all, a necessary evil. At first, in full remembrance of what her mother had said, Mabel sat very still, but before long she began to grow tired and restless.
"Is it most done?" she whispered.