She placed a small silver bell on the table beside Vi, and with a tender, compassionate look at the tear-swollen face, went away. The young Travillas were sometimes denied dainties because of misconduct, but always allowed to satisfy their youthful appetites with an abundance of wholesome, nourishing food. Vi ate her supper with a keen relish, and found herself greatly comforted by it. How much one's views of life are brightened by a good comfortable meal that does not overtax the digestive organs. Vi suddenly remembered with a feeling of relief that the worst of her trouble--the confession--was over, and the punishment nearly so. It was only a little while till mamma came, took her on her lap, kissed and forgave her. "Mamma, I'm so, _so_ sorry for having disobeyed and grieved you!" whispered the child, weeping afresh: "for I do love you very, very much, my own mamma." "I know it, dearest; but I want you to be far more sorry for having disobeyed God, who loves you more, a great deal, than your parents do, and has given you every good thing you have." "Yes, mamma, I've asked God many times to forgive me for Jesus's sake, and I think he has." "Yes, if you asked with your heart, I am sure he has; for Jesus said, 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you.'" There was a little pause, Vi nestling close in her mother's arms; then with a quiver in her voice, "Mamma," she sighed, "will you ever trust me again?" "Just the same as before, my child; because I believe you are truly sorry for your sin against God and against me." "Thank you, dear, dear mamma! oh I hope God will help me to keep from ever being naughty any more." Chapter Twenty-seventh. "Conscience makes cowards of us all." Meta was not in a cheerful or companionable mood during the walk that afternoon; the stings of conscience goaded her and she was haunted by the fear that Violet, so young and innocent, so utterly unused to concealments, would betray her share in the mischief done, even without intending to do so. "Meta, what's the matter with you?" Herbert asked at length; "you haven't spoken a pleasant word since we came out." "I'm not ill," was the laconic reply. "Then you must be in the sulks, and ought to have staid at home," returned the plain-spoken brother. "Oh don't tease her," said little Elsie. "Perhaps she has a headache, and I know by myself that that makes one feel dull, and sometimes even cross." "You cross! I don't believe you ever were in your life," said Herbert. "I've never seen you any thing but pleasant as a May morning." "Don't quarrel, children, but help me to gather some of these lovely flowers to scatter over the graves up there on the hill," said Rosie Dinsmore. "Our graves," said Eddie, softly. "Yes I'd like to; but, Aunt Rosie, I don't believe we can get in." "Yes, we can," she answered. "Uncle Joe's up there at work, weeding and trimming the rosebushes."