"Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,
The ills which I this day have done,
That with the world, myself, and Thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be."
"Now, Willy," said Mrs. Parlin, pausing, "let us think a while, and try to remember what we have done to-day that is wrong. You think, and I will think, too."
He looked up, and she knew by the cloud in his eyes that his conscience was troubled.
"Well, I'll think. But you haven't done anything wrong, mamma?"
"O, yes, dear; many things."
"Well, so've I, too. Want me to tell what?"
"Not unless you choose, my child. Only be sure you tell God."
They were silent a few moments.
"There, that's the last time I'll ever stand the sticks up on end in the wood-box," burst forth Willy.
"I thought so," said his mother, kissing him.