The mother's face grew grave and sorrowful as she listened, her disappointment being almost too deep for words.
"Gertie," said she, at the close, "I would never have believed that a child of mine could do such a thing, and I trusted you so implicitly. Poor little Ella, how hard and cruel it has all been for her!"
Gertie sobbed again, her heaviest grief being that she had proved unworthy of her mother's trust. Oh, the sting of it all Gertie felt almost in despair.
"Mother," she cried, "it will just break my heart if you don't forgive me."
Mrs. Snowden's arms were immediately outstretched, and, with her eyes full of tears, she drew her sorrowful little daughter into her embrace.
"Dear child," said she tremulously, "there is One other of Whom you must ask forgiveness; you know Whom I mean."
"Yes, mother," sobbed Gertie, "you mean God, don't you? I've been asking Him in my heart, lots of times, but I don't feel somehow as if He heard me."
"He always hears, Gertie, be sure of that," was the answer; "and for your comfort, let me remind you, 'the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.'"
Then followed a quiet talk with mother, which neither Gertie or Marcia were ever likely to forget.
Not very long afterwards the boys returned home, brimming over with indignation at Gertie's dishonour.