"What do you mean, Willi?" asked the mother gently. "Come, tell me what has happened. I have known all day you must have been naughty. What was it?"
"We have—we have—perhaps we shot a child dead," was heard at last.
"Willi, what are you saying?" cried the mother, frightened, for she immediately remembered the doctor's hurried appearance at her neighbor's cottage. "But that isn't possible. Explain to me what happened."
Willi related from the beginning what Lili and he had done, how they had heard the moan, after which they had run away. They were so frightened now, they would rather die at once, he said, than live any longer in such dread.
"Now you see, Willi, what comes from disobedience," said the mother, sternly. "You thought it wasn't very bad for you to play a little with the bow and arrow, but your father knew very well what danger there might be in it. That is why he forbade you to use it. We can't tell yet what terrible thing has happened through your disobedience. Therefore, we will earnestly implore God to make only good come out of your wicked action."
The mother began to say a prayer which Willi continued himself. He had never in his life prayed as fervently as he did at that anxious moment. He could hardly stop, because he felt such intense relief in praying, and it was wonderful to lay his trouble in God's hands. He earnestly begged His forgiveness and His assistance. Willi experienced great happiness in being able to look up at his mother again and he said good-night with a lighter heart.
In the room opposite, Lili was waiting for her mother. As the latter stepped up to her little one's bed, she said seriously, "Will you say your prayers, Lili?"
Lili began, then stopped. Once more she began and stopped abruptly. Dreadfully uneasy, she said now, "Mamma, I can't pray. God is angry with me."
"What did you do, Lili? What makes you so sure God is angry with you?"
Lili remained silent, and pulled her sheet to and fro, for she was an obstinate little person.