Harry turned over and read:
"'But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.'"
"You see that God is good, even to those who never think of him, or who blaspheme his name and disobey his laws. And if we ask him, he will give us his Spirit to make us like him. I think too, Harry, that when we once come to have a real sight of our own sins, we shall not think so much of other people's sins against us."
"But suppose you do try to forgive and think you have, and then something makes it all come up again?" asked Phil eagerly.
"Yes; suppose the same fellow that spoiled garden should poke some money at you and say, 'There, there's enough to pay for your beggarly garden ten times over,'" said Harry, finishing his sentence in spite of Phil's beseeching looks. "What are you to do then?"
"Then you must forgive again, and keep on forgiving every time the anger comes up," answered Miss Isabel. She saw that there was something going on which she did not understand, but she was too wise to ask any questions. "Weeding our hearts is like weeding a garden—you cannot do it all at once, but you must keep at it all summer long, every time a weed shows its head. But we must not talk any longer."
"Didn't we make Hod Maberly squirm, though?" said Harry, as they were going home. "He was just in an agony for fear we should tell Miss Isabel."
"I'm sorry, though," said Phil. "I'm afraid, he won't come any more."
"Suppose he don't, we sha'n't miss him much," said Harry, scornfully.
"No, but he will miss something," answered Phil.