Half an hour later she came to him looking so bright and happy, so sweet and fair, that his pulses bounded with joy at the sight.
She ran into his outstretched arms, put hers about his neck and pressed her sweet lips to his again and again. “Dear, dear papa, how I love you!” she said, laying her soft cheek to his. “I do believe almost any other father would have scolded and punished me too, last night.”
“Not a father who loved you as I do. But how did it all happen? I cannot think what you could have been doing there.”
Then she told him all about it, adding, “I saw the statue just now and it is quite ruined. O papa, I am so sorry!”
“Never mind that; if this accident teaches you a lesson on the folly and danger of climbing up and reaching in that way—such a lesson that you will never try it again—I shall not mourn over the loss; but consider your safety cheaply purchased by it. But do you know what you have brought on yourself by this escapade?”
“What, papa?” she asked with a startled look up into his face. His tone was so grave it half frightened her.
“Your father’s presence with you and your mates whenever there is any romping game to be played.”
“Oh,” she cried, clapping her hands, “that will be so nice! And will you join us in the games?”
“Perhaps. Now let us have our reading. I have chosen the sweet story of our Saviour’s birth and the visit of the angels to the shepherds, as the most appropriate to the day.”
“Yes, papa, surely it is,” she said, a sweet, tender gravity overspreading her lovely countenance, while the soft eyes were luminous with love and joy. “I have been thinking of it all the morning, and thanking God in my heart for the gift of his dear Son. And this is my verse for to-day: ‘God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ O papa, isn’t that a sweet, sweet verse? and wasn’t it wonderful love?”