“What put it into your head that I did?” he queried in turn.
“Oh, I saw they all had good ones on, and I don’t believe their father ever bought them for them.”
“No; and I fear they’ll soon go for liquor.”
“Papa, I have a woolen dress that’s most out at the elbows; Mamma Vi said I’d better not wear it any more. May I get Christine or Agnes to patch it and give it to one of those Jones children? I think it would be about big enough for one of them.”
“You may get Christine to show you how to mend it and then you may give it to the little girl.”
“But—I—I don’t like to sew, papa, and I’m sure Christine would be willing to do it.”
“I presume she would, but, daughter, I want you to learn both how to do such work neatly, and what pleasure may be found in self-denying exertion for others. I am not laying a command upon you, however, but it will gratify me very much if, of your own free will, you will do what I desire.”
“Papa, I will,” she said, after a moment’s struggle with herself, “for I love to please you, and I just know you know what is best for me.”
“That’s my own dear little girl,” he said, smiling down at her.