He sat down and drew her to his side, putting an arm about her waist. "Well, daughter, what is it?" he asked kindly, stroking the hair back from her forehead with the other hand. "Papa, I--I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for----" she stammered, her eyes drooping, her cheeks growing crimson. "Sorry for your former naughtiness and rebellion?" he asked gently, as she paused, leaving her sentence unfinished. "Yes, papa, I couldn't bear to let you go away without telling you so again." "Well, daughter, it was all forgiven long ago, and you have been a pretty good girl most of the time since that first sad week." "Papa, I do want to be good," she said earnestly, "but somehow the badness will get the better of me." "Yes; each one of us has an evil nature to fight against," he said, "and it will get the better of us unless we are very determined and battle with it, not in our own strength only, but crying mightily for assistance to Him who has said, 'In me is thine help.' "We must watch and pray, my child. The Bible bids us keep our hearts with all diligence, and set a watch at the door of our lips that we sin not with our tongues. Also to pray without ceasing. We need to cry often to God for help to overcome the evil that is in our own hearts, and the snares of the world and the devil, 'who goeth about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.'" "Papa," she said, looking up into his face, "do you find it hard to be good sometimes?" "Yes, my child; I have the same battle to fight that you have, and I am the more sorry for you because I know by experience how difficult it sometimes is to do right." "And you have to help me by punishing me when I'm naughty, and making me do as I ought?" "Yes, and my battle is sometimes for patience with a naughty, disobedient child." "I think you were very patient with me that time you kept me shut up so long in this room," she said. "If I'd been in your place I'd have got a good switch and whipped my little girl till I made her obey me at once." "Do you think that would have been the better plan?" "No, sir. I think you'd have had to 'most kill me before I'd have given up, but if I'd been in your place I couldn't have had patience to wait." "You need to cultivate the grace of patience, then," he said gravely. "Now come with me to Max's room, and let us see if we can pack up his goods and chattels." "Papa, I almost think I could pack it myself after watching you pack all these others." "Possibly; but I shall do it more quickly, with you to help in getting all the things together." Every one was ready in due season for departure, and that night the two cottages that for months past had been so full of light and life, were dark, silent and deserted. Arriving in Boston, the whole party took rooms at one of the principal hotels. There they spent the night, but the greater part of the next day was passed on board the captain's vessel.