“And I am in my little chair, close by your side, and waiting for a story,” said Madeline, who was already feeling the spirit of her companion and true friend as well as teacher.
“The story, is it?” And Florence bent down and left a kiss upon the sweet, upturned face. “Very well: my promise shall be kept. Now, let me think: what shall the story be?”
Miss Harper lifted her eyes, and sat thoughtful for some moments. Then, reaching her hand toward a table that stood near, she took up a Bible, saying, as she did so,—
“I used to read you some of the stories in this precious volume, and I think you always loved to hear them. Shall it be a Bible story now?”
Florence was looking down upon the face of her pupil. Its expression suddenly changed into one of strong repugnance, and, with an impatient gesture she said,—
“No! I don’t want to hear a Bible story!”
Florence was shocked by the tone and manner of the child more than by her words.
“Not a story from the Divine Book, Maddy dear?” she said, in a voice touched by an irrepressible sadness. “Oh, you cannot mean what you have said! Angels are present with us in the holy word; and they bring to our souls peace and happiness. Let me read to you about the birth of our Saviour in Bethlehem.”
Miss Harper opened to the second chapter of Matthew: as she did so, Madeline turned her head away. Miss Harper began,—
“Now, when Jesus was born——”