"John," said Bessie, folding her little hands gravely in her lap, and trying to look sternly at the young man, "perhaps you don't know that if we know we ought to do a thing and don't do it, our Father is not very pleased with us."
"May be so," said John; "but I don't feel it's my duty to go and take care of Dolly."
"Whose duty is it, then?" asked Bessie.
"Not any one's that's likely to do it, I guess."
Bessie was in despair, but she thought she would try a little more severity.
"John," she said, "when you are poor and ragged, and sick and bad, I hope some one will have pity of you, and go take care of you."
"I hope so too; but I don't feel there's any call on me to go and look after that thieving beggar, nor for you to trouble yourselves about her, after all she's done to you," answered John.
"John," said Bessie, solemnly, "I'm afraid we don't think you quite so very nice as we did this morning; and I'm afraid you are one of those to whom our Lord will say, 'I was sick, and ye visited me not.'"
But John was only amused at her displeasure, and laughed aloud again.