"Is it an inconvenience to you now?" asked Belle.
"No, not particular," said Lily, rolling over on her side, and plucking a head of thistle-down which grew close at hand. "Here, Lulu, blow this;" and she held it up that the little one might blow off the feathery seed-vessels; "not particular just now; but it was a great inconvenience before dinner. You see, Belle,—once more, Lulu; there they go!—you see I wanted to do a thing very much, but I did not feel sure mamma would let me, and she had gone to make a call, so I could not ask her; and I made up my mind I'd just do it; and do you know, I really believe I felt quite glad mamma was not there, so she couldn't forbid me; but then my conscience,—I suppose it was my conscience,—puff away, Lulu,—began to feel badly about it, and so I put it off till mamma came, and sure enough, she did forbid it. So, you see, there's a sign that conscience is a bother and a blessing too."
"Yes," said Belle approvingly.
"And then," proceeded Lily, thinking she might as well continue to give her companions the benefit of her moral reflections, "and then I was wondering what conscience was. We're so queer inside of us; our thoughts and our consciences and our remorses, and all that, you know."
"Yes," said Belle again. "Lily, I suppose conscience is a kind of 'Thou God seest me' feeling; don't you?"
"Why, yes," answered Lily, looking admiringly at Belle. "I never thought about it that way, but I believe it is; and that was a very clever idea of yours, Belle. Mamie, what do you think about it? You seem to have thought a good deal lately about God seeing you all the time."
"I don'no," muttered Mamie. The conversation was not pleasant to her, and she did not choose to take any part in it.
"I s'pose heathen can't have consciences as long as they don't know about God," said Belle thoughtfully.
"No, I'm quite sure they do not," said Lily confidently.