She sat down on the little green mound beside the rain-barrel,
and reached behind it. Suddenly she started back as if a serpent had stung
her. Again she reached quite around the barrel, as far as she could stretch
her little arms; but nothing was there. Then she peered carefully into the
place; but no shoes were to be found. It is plain now,--quite plain. What
shall be done? Some one has taken the shoes away! Overpowered entirely, she
bursts into a passionate fit of crying. Who is it that approaches the
erring child and so kindly and tenderly inquires,--
"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.
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