"I've tried to do my duty always," she said, bridling. "I've never indulged in any vanities of dress; but that's been one of your sins, Effie Prescott; bows and even flowers and feathers on your bonnets, and knots of bright ribbon at your throat and in your hair. It's sinful and you may depend you'll be afflicted till you'll give up and be consistent in all things." "I know better than you can tell me, that I deserve all I suffer and a great deal more," said the girl humbly, tears gathering in her eyes; "but for all that I don't believe you are right. You are a Job's comforter, and God reproved those men for talking so to him. "And don't you remember what Jesus said about trying to take the mote out of your brother's eye while there is a beam in your own?" "I see its time for me to go," said Damaris, rising. She stood a moment looking at Effie, her lips compressed, her face white and her eyes ablaze with rage. "There's no Christian spirit about you," she hissed, "you don't like faithful dealing; you don't want to be told of your sins. Very well, Miss, I wash my hands of you; I shake off the dust of my feet against you." And with arms folded on her breast and head erect, she stalked out of the house, leaving the invalid girl quivering from head to foot with nervous excitement and distress, crying and laughing hysterically. "Oh dear! oh dear!" she sighed to herself. "I haven't behaved in a Christian manner; I was angry at what she said." Mrs. Prescott and Mrs. Keith were strolling in from the garden, chatting pleasantly of their domestic affairs, when an infant's screams were heard coming from a back room. "There, my baby is awake and calling for his mother," said Mrs. Prescott. "Please excuse me a minute. Just step into the parlor again and talk with Effie." Mrs. Keith complied and found Effie alone, lying back in her chair, trembling, flushed and tearful. "My poor child! are you suffering very much?" she asked, bending over her and smoothing her hair with a caressing motion. "No, ma'am, I'm not worse--only--it was something that Damaris said; and that I didn't take it quite as I ought. "Oh, Mrs. Keith, do you think God sends sickness to punish us for our sins? and that my health is poor because I'm more wicked than anybody who is well?" "Certainly not. I have excellent health as a general thing, while many an eminent saint has been a great sufferer. "We know that sin brought disease and death into the world and that God sometimes sends afflictions as chastisements; but to his own people it is in love and for their growth in grace. "'As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous therefore and repent.' 'Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons.' "Remembering that, would you wish to escape it?" "Oh no, no! But oh, it makes the burden so much heavier to think that it is because He is angry with me!"