'God's weather, my little woman: that must be for the best.'
'Oh, bother!' was the rude answer, and Agatha turned her head away from her best friend.
The colonel did not take offence. He was grieved by her rebellion against God far more than by her impertinence to himself; and he was sufficiently humble to recollect how short a time it was since he had learned to trust the All-Father, saying in his thoughts, 'If I, a grown man, could be both ignorant and stubborn-willed, how dare I be shocked by this invalid child's foolishness?'
So, instead of scolding, he slipped an arm under Agatha's shoulders to raise her up, that she might take her tea before he was obliged to leave her.
'If Catherine comes, you will need strength to entertain her cheerfully. Be brave and good, dear.'
Agatha longed to push the cup away from her, but his patient kindness prevailed over her cross mood.
'I'm a savage little beast. Guardian, I'm—I'm sorry!'
'There's a dear girl! No doubt pain is very bad to bear.'
'I haven't any pain now—only in my temper. But I don't pretend to be religiously sorry, you know; I don't want to be bad to you—that's all.'
'Your Father in heaven loves you better than I, your adopted father on earth, can do.'