"What is the matter, Annie?"

It is the mother, weary as she can be, and made still more weary and
sorrowful by her little daughter's disobedience. She takes the child into
the house and lays her upon the bed. The aching feet are bathed in water,
the dirt is washed from the scratches and wounds, while poor Annie weeps
and sobs as if her little heart would break. But the ugly thorn would not
come out: it must ache on until father comes. Silently and sadly the mother
bends over her suffering child, bathing her aching head. At length Annie
said,--

"Dear, dear mother, forgive me; and I will never, _never_ want to disobey
you again!"

I suppose every child knows just what this good Christian mother said to
her little unhappy daughter,--how she told her that she had offended God as
well as her mother, and broken his good law. She told her, too, how sinful
it was to try to deceive, and then comforted her with her full and free
pardon, and said that her heavenly Father would pardon her even more freely
than her mother did, if she truly repented of her fault and asked his
forgiveness with her whole heart. Then she taught Annie to pray, "Lead me
not into temptation, but deliver me from evil;" and, although the little
one had said that prayer many times, never, never had she understood its
meaning so perfectly before: _now_ she felt her dependence on God.

Soon Susie and Mary came in with the baby; and, while they were pitying
poor Annie and asking questions, they placed the child on the bed beside
her. There it laughed and crowed merrily and stretched out its little
dimpled hands, while Annie, unable to smile in return, wondered how it
could be so happy when she was so wretched.