"But you know—you know father would not let me!" she cried tearfully.
"Father thinks more of you than of me," he declared; "yes, he does, he does, I say."
The little girl said no more. She turned away from her brother's bedside, and hastily left the room, amazed at the knowledge that Gerald was jealous of her. How unkind and unjust of him! Her pillow was bedewed with bitter tears that night; but by-and-by she assured herself that Gerald did not mean all he had said; he would be ashamed of himself the next day. So she asked God to forgive him for his jealous temper, and fell asleep with his name upon her lips.
Gerald had gone to bed without a prayer, as he had often done of late; unfortunately he did not realize how much he had been to blame that day, so he experienced no desire for God's forgiveness, no wish for communion with his Father in Heaven.
[CHAPTER VII]
Uncle Edward's Offer
GERALD came down late to breakfast the following morning when the meal was more than half over. One glance at his face was enough to show Angel that he had not overcome his ill-temper. He muttered a few apologetic words to the effect that he had overslept himself as he took his place at the table, and cast a look of disgust at the rasher of bacon upon his plate.
"You have only yourself to blame if your breakfast is cold," his father told him; "I am afraid it is not very appetizing now. If you don't care for the bacon, have some bread and butter and marmalade instead."
"I am not hungry," the boy replied, as he sipped his lukewarm coffee; "I don't want any breakfast."
"Are you not well?" Mr. Willis asked, with a glance of inquiry at his son's sullen countenance.