But there was trouble in Paula's eyes as she said, "I would certainly like to have a Bible, but uncle has forbidden me to read it. I can see from what you say that it would be easy for you to buy another and read it yourselves, but my uncle has prohibited me and that settles it. I simply can't be a hypocrite and deceive him. Dear Teresa, I do certainly thank you from the bottom of my heart, but, you see, you had forgotten what uncle said. Now, listen, the Lord Jesus is going to help me! There are many beautiful passages of the Bible that I know by heart, and there are plenty of the Bible stories that I'll never forget. All these I will keep in my memory, and then besides I shall pray every day for my uncle, that he'll soon return my precious Bible to me, and give me permission to read it. I know the Lord will hear me, if I obey Him and pray with faith. Dear Teresa, I hope you're not going to be provoked with me." "And why should I be, my precious treasure?" "Well, just because I didn't want you to buy me a Bible." "No, no, dear, no; you certainly are right, and a whole lot better than we are." And we, together with our old servant, could not help admiring the honesty of our sturdy country cousin. "Teresa!" It was Paula who broke the silence that followed the above discussion. "What now, Paula?" "Will you pray for me?" "I," said the astonished Teresa. "Yes, please, Teresa dear." "My poor little Paula, I never pray for myself, so how could I pray for you?" Poor Paula seemed at a loss. "Well, you see," she said, hesitatingly in a trembling voice, "I'm afraid to do it. You see, I don't dare to forget God." And so our good Teresa, in order to satisfy the poor child, promised to pray for her that very night. "No," insisted Paula, "let's pray now." Our poor servant looked around her in dismay. "I--! I pray here! In front of you and Lisita and Rosa! Never--! Besides, I wouldn't know what to say." "Do you mean to say that you don't know, 'Our Father which art in heaven?'" "Perhaps, but it's some time since I've repeated that prayer. I remember my poor mother. I used to kneel beside her and repeat it when I was your age. Once in a while since then, I have said my 'paternoster.' But it's been many years since it's passed my lips, and I haven't even thought of it for ages. No, no; it's useless. No, Paula, you pray for us. We certainly need it, but as for me praying--a poor sinner like me--I tell you it's useless." But Paula was not easily discouraged. "Teresa," and Paula put her cheek against the wrinkled one of our old servant, "you know that Jesus died for us, and do you mean to say, notwithstanding that, you are living like a heathen." "What's that you say? Like a heathen?" cried poor Teresa.