"I don't know how we're going to manage," Rodney said. "There's no
sense in saying we mustn't be naughty because her mother's dead."

"I suppose," Mary said, "it would make her think she's deader."

"We can't help that. We've got to be naughty some time."

"We mustn't begin," Mary said. "If we begin we shall have to finish."

They were good for four days, from ten to twelve. And at a quarter past
twelve on the fifth day Mamma found Mary crying in the dining-room.

"Oh, Mary, have you been naughty?"

"No; but I shall be to-morrow. I've been so good that I can't keep on
any longer."

Mamma took her in her lap. She lowered her head to you, holding it
straight and still, ready to pounce if you said the wrong thing.

"Being good when it pleases you isn't being good," she said. "It's not
what Jesus means by being good. God wants us to be good all the time,
like Jesus."

"But--Jesus and me is different. He wasn't able to be naughty. And I'm
not able to be good. Not _all_ the time."

"You're not able to be good of your own will and in your own strength.
You're not good till God makes you good."