We were both frozen up with sadness, and the weary little one was ready to creep into her mother’s heart again. But I must not let her yet. “So my poor Agnes has had a very sad day?” “Yes, mother,” with a little quivering sob. “And do you know we have all had a very sad day,--father, mother, your little brother, nurse--every one of us has felt as if a black curtain had been hung up to shut out the sunshine?” The child was sympathetic, and shivered at the sight of the black curtain and the warm sunshine shut out. “And do you know who has put us all out in the dark and the cold? Our little girl drew the curtain, because she would not speak to any of us, or be kind to any of us, or love any of us all the day long; so we could not get into the sunshine, and have been shivering and sad in the cold.” “Mother, mother!” with gasping sobs; “_not_ you and father?” “Ah! I thought my little girl would be sorry. Now let us try to find out how it all happened. Is it possible that Agnes noticed that her brother’s pear was larger than her own?” “Oh, mother, how could I?” And the poor little face was hidden in her mother’s breast, and the outbreak of sobs that followed was too painful. I feared it might mean actual illness for the sensitive little soul. I think it was the right thing to do; but I had barely courage enough to leave the results in more loving hands. “Never mind; don’t cry any more, darling, and we will ask our Father above to forgive and forget all about it. Mother knows that her dear little Agnes will try not to love herself best any more. And then the black curtain will never fall, and we shall never again be a whole long day standing sadly out in the cold. Good-night from mother, and another sweet good-night from father.” The treatment seems to answer. On the slightest return of the old sullen symptoms we show our little girl what they mean. But the grief that follows is so painful that I’m afraid we could not go on with it for the sake of the child’s health. But, happily, we very rarely see a sulky face now; and when we do we turn and look upon our child, and the look melts her, until she is all gentleness, penitence, and love. CHAPTER IV _DOROTHY ELMORE’S ACHIEVEMENT: A FORECAST_ PART I