"What ails the child?" said Mother, rather sharply. "The man would wait no longer, and now the poor woman must go without her cloak."
"I am very sorry!" answered Amice, meekly. "I was trying to emulate the example of that blessed young Saint, Sister Catherine was reading of yesterday; who, when he went up-stairs, always paused to say a prayer on every step."
I saw Mother's eyes twinkle, and the corners of her mouth twitch.
"Well, well, I wont scold you, child, but remember the next time you are sent on an errand that your business is to do the errand, and try rather to follow the example of St. Anthony, and be in two places at once."
I saw Amice was mortified. When we went away together she was silent a little, and I could see she was trying to keep back her tears. Presently she said:
"Rosamond, I think it is very hard to follow the example of the Saints. There are so many of them, and they are so very different."
"Perhaps it would be well to pick out one, and keep him for a model," said I.
"But how?" asked Amice. "Now, this same saint, for instance. When he was only five years old, he wanted a friar's habit, and he cried till he got it."
"He would have cried a long time if he had my mother to deal with!" said I. "Or rather, I think his crying would have been cut short rather suddenly."
"Just so!" said Amice. "We were taught to obey our parents in all things. Then, again, when he was eight years old, he saw his mother in a red dress, and reproved her severely, telling her that the color would drag her down to the flames of hell. Now I think (and I can't help thinking), that Sister Catherine's way of snubbing and putting down poor Sister Bridget (though she does say silly things, to be sure), is worse than wearing a red gown: but suppose I should reprove her, what do you think would happen?"