"Mamma, it will make you sorry, ever so sorry."
"Yes, dear, but I must bear it for your sake."
"O mamma, I don't like to make you sorry I—I wish I hadn't, hadn't been naughty, oh so naughty, mamma! for I played with some of your mamma's things that you forbade us to touch, and—and one lovely plate got broken all up."
"I am very sorry to hear that," returned the mother, "yet far more grieved by my child's sin. But how did you get the door open and the plates off the shelf?"
"I didn't, mamma: they were out."
"Some one else did it?"
"Yes, mamma; but you know I can't tell tales. It wasn't any of our children, though, none of them were naughty but just me."
"Were you playing with the plate? did you break it?"
"No mamma, I didn't touch the plates, but I was dressing one of the dollies. They are all locked up again now, mamma, and I don't think anybody will touch them any more."
A little tender, serious talk on the sin and danger of disobedience to parents, and the mother knelt with her child, and in a few simple words asked God's forgiveness for her. Then telling Vi she must remain alone in that room till bedtime, she left her.