That evening, after the boys had retired, Mrs. Burton seemed a little uneasy of mind, and at length she said to her husband:
“I feel guilty at never having directed the boys’s devotions since they have been here, and I know no better time than the present in which to begin.”
Mr. Burton’s eyes followed his wife reverently as she left the room. The service she proposed to render the children she had sometimes performed for himself, with results for which he could not be grateful enough, and yet it was not with unalloyed anticipation that he softly followed her up the stair. Mrs. Burton went into the chamber and found the boys playing battering-ram, each with a pillow in front of him.
“Children,” said she, “have you said your prayers?”
“No,” said Budge; “somebody’s got to be knocked down first. Then we will.”
A sudden tumble by Toddie was the signal for devotional exercises, and both boys knelt beside the bed.
“Now, darlings,” said Mrs. Burton, “you have made some sad mistakes to-day, and they should teach you that, even when you want most to do right, you need to be helped by somebody better. Don’t you think so?”
“I do,” said Budge. “Lots.”
“I don’t,” said Toddie. “More help I getsh, de worse fings is. Guesh I’ll do fings all alone affer dish.”
“I know what to say to the Lord to-night, Aunt Alice,” said Budge.