“Good-morning, dear papa,” they answered, running into them, and putting theirs about his neck. “Yes, we are well, and hope you are too,” hugging and kissing him with ardent affection.
“Now, papa, won’t you give me that long talk you said I should have this morning?” pleaded Lulu.
“Yes; don’t I always keep my promises?” he asked, taking possession of an easy-chair and allowing them to seat themselves one upon each knee.
“Yes, indeed you do, papa; sometimes when I’d rather you wouldn’t,” returned Lulu laughingly.
“Would you be willing to lose faith in your father’s word, dear child?” he asked, with sudden gravity.
“No, papa; no indeed!” she answered earnestly; “that would be worse than being punished, when I deserve it, for naughtiness that you’ve said you’d have to punish me for.”
“I trust there will never again be any call for me to keep such promises,” he said caressing her. “You have been very good for some time past, and intend to keep on trying to be so, do you not?”
“Yes, sir; but I’m afraid the badness that I still feel inside sometimes will crop out again one of these days,” she said, half-sadly, half-jestingly.
“The same danger threatens your father, too,” he said, “and the only safety for either of us lies in constant watching and prayer.”
“But, papa, how can we be praying all the time?”