“But it is not fair, Allan: you told Eric you should take a walk; mamma is very unkind and unjust, too! I could not help Froll’s going up that time.”
“O, Nettie,” said Allan, “don’t ever speak so of your mother, so kind and good. My mamma is dead, Nettie; and if yours should ever be laid away in the cold, cold ground, you would feel so dreadfully to think you had wronged her!”
Nettie was crying again.
“I do love mamma, and it was very bad of me to speak so; but, O, dear! I never do do anything right. I don’t see why I can’t be good, like Adele.”
“I know what makes Adele so good and gentle,” said Allan. “She loves the Lord, and tries to please him.”
“But I can’t!” said Nettie, piteously.
“O, yes, you can, Nettie. Every one can.”
“Grown-up people can, I know.”
“And children too,” said Allan, earnestly. “Let me tell you a story auntie used to tell me, when I was blind.”
Nettie assented, and Allan repeated the story of “Little Cristelle,” unconscious, the while, that he was fulfilling the teaching of song in ministering to Nettie.