‘You are so quick and impulsive, you often do things without thinking, not because you do not mean to do what is right, but because you do not take time to see that it is wrong; and that leads to the worse sin of covering up the matter and telling half-lies to shield yourself. Now, as this is Christmas Day, we won’t say anything more about it; only, dearie, try and remember who came this day to help us—to save us from our sins. That is what His name means.’
‘Yes, mother,’ said Vivian, beginning to fidget with all a healthy boy’s dislike to a ‘sermon,’ and his mother let him go with a sigh.
‘Will I ever be able to train him to be a brave and honourable man,’ she thought to herself, ‘with his quick, ambitious nature, his love of being first, coupled with his moral cowardice and fear of being laughed at?’
They were a merry party as they walked across the snowy meadow to church. Little Dorothy, who looked like a white woolly ball in her fur coat and cap, clinging to her father with one hand and to Ronald with the other, as they gave her slides along the slippery footpath, while Vivian hovered round, now sliding himself, now threatening to snowball the others, all trace of the late conversation seeming to have vanished from his mind. But the good thoughts came back again in the old church, where there was an atmosphere of sober gladness, its gray stone pillars being wreathed with glistening holly, and brightly coloured banners hanging over the pulpit and choir-stalls.
The rector took for his text the very verse that his mother had spoken about; and as the old man talked simply to the congregation of the battle that each one of us has to wage against the sin in ourselves before we can hope to fight successfully against the sin that is in the world, and how the Bethlehem Babe came to help and save us, Vivian, sitting in his dark corner of the old-fashioned pew, gave his mother’s hand a little squeeze, and, crushing his face against her cloak, made more good resolutions for the future than ever he had done before in the whole course of his happy, careless, light-hearted life.
CHAPTER III.
GOING TO LONDON.
WHO does not know the excitement of a first visit away from home, unaccompanied by any grown-up person?
The following morning the boys were downstairs twenty minutes before any one else, and it seemed as if Ellen would never bring in the coffee; while so many important messages came to take up their father’s attention, it appeared as if it must be at least ten o’clock before breakfast and prayers were over, and they were at liberty at last to run upstairs to the schoolroom, where nurse was busy folding their clothes into their father’s portmanteau, which had been called into service for the occasion.