"I do," was the almost solemnly-spoken reply.
"My first hurried, yet tolerably close, observation, has shown me, in each, a groundwork of natural good."
"As their father," replied Mr. Arnold, in some earnestness of manner, "I know there is good in them,—much good. But they have needed a mother's care."
"When you have said that, how much has been expressed! If the garden is not cultivated, and every weed carefully removed, how quickly is it overrun with things noxious, and how feeble becomes the growth of all things good and beautiful! It is just so with the mind. Neglect it, and bad habits and evil propensities will assuredly be quickened into being, and attain vigorous life."
"My children are not perfect, I know, but—"
Mr. Arnold seemed slightly hurt. Agnes Green interrupted him, by saying, in a mild voice, as she laid her hand gently upon his arm:
"Do not give my words a meaning beyond what they are designed to convey. If I assume the place of a mother to your children, I take upon myself all the responsibilities that the word 'mother' involves. Is not this so?"
"Thus I understand it."
"My duty will be, not only to train these children for a happy and useful life here, but for a happy and useful life hereafter."
"It will."