Helen: I found a little poem about our thoughts and put it in my scrap-book. May I read it, mother?
Mother: Please do; I know we all want to hear it.
Helen: Here it is:—
“There were idle thoughts came in at the door,
And warmed their little toes,
And did more mischief about the house
Than any one living knows.
“They scratched the tables and broke the chairs,
And soiled the floor and wall;
For a motto was written above the door,