“No,” said Bessie, “not always; but mamma said you was not near so spoiled as you used to be. I think you’re pretty good now, Belle.”
“I slapped Daphne’s face this morning,” whispered Belle, remorsefully.
“Oh! did you?” said Bessie. “Well, Belle, I used to slap people sometimes, even when I had mamma to teach me better, and there was no excuse for me.”
“But my own mamma did teach me better, Bessie. I slap Daphne pretty often, but she never tells papa; and I promise myself I’ll never do it again, and then I just do.”
“Did you ever promise Jesus and ask Him to help you not to do it?” asked Bessie.
“No,” answered Belle. “I didn’t think of it. I could do it now, couldn’t I?”
“Yes,” said Bessie.
They knelt down together side by side, and Belle said in a soft but steady voice, for her tears had now ceased,—
“Dear Jesus, I promise not to slap Daphne any more, or not to be naughty any more if I can help it; and you will help me to be good. Amen.”
Then pressing her lips to the cold stone, as if it were the warm, living cheek she had once caressed, she said in a pleading, pathetic whisper,—