"That is what disheartens me; good people are so up in the clouds, where one can never get at them."
"I suppose, though," answered Amy, "they were not always so good. Mamma often says she did a great many naughty things when she was my age."
"I wish she would tell me what made her better, then," said Dora. "Did she ever tell you?"
"No," replied Amy; "all that she ever told me was what I ought to do myself to cure my faults; and she said that she would pray to God to help me."
"No one will ever promise that for me," observed Dora, sighing.
"But mamma will, I am sure," exclaimed Amy, eagerly; "and I——"
"Why do you stop?" said Dora.
"Mamma tells me to mention all your names in my prayers," replied Amy; "but I don't mean that that would be the same as her doing so, because she is so much better."
"I cannot see what difference that can make. I should like very much to think you did it always for me; but it must be such a trouble to remember."
"Oh no, Dora, it would seem so unkind not to do it; and if I thought you cared, I never could forget; but some day or other, when I am quite good, it will be of much more use."