"I believe all parents make mistakes. They find out, sooner or later, that they cannot, of themselves, train their children right, and so cease making the experiment, and seek Divine guidance at every step. I see no evidence that yours entered this world materially more depraved than others. But whatever the case may be, you have no reason for discouragement, if you can once make up your minds to distrust yourselves and leave all to Him who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not." Thus with line upon line and precept upon precept, Mrs. Grey tried to show to her eager listeners, that the first step towards reforming their children was a thorough reform in their own lives. She then took leave and gladly returned to her own peaceful home, where so many of her own rules had long been put in practice. Margaret was awaiting her in brilliant spirits, and everything settled down into the old routine; the one busy with scores of interests beyond her own; the other living in an imitation of her as yet remote, but yet original and unique. Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Thayer found that it was no easy matter to change habits formed through fourteen years, and still went on making mistakes. Yet a radical change was taking place in their souls, which the children soon began to feel and to comment on. In the first place, Mr. Thayer began to speak to Bob with a kindly yearning in his voice that startled and puzzled the boy. It was plain that his resentment was over, and that he was feeling pity instead of anger. What could it mean? Bob was full of curiosity and anxiety. Did this tenderness portend some coming penalty of the law--perhaps? Was he to be sent to a Reform school, or to jail, or what? His mother changed too. Julia, between whom and himself a certain kind of intimacy existed, took him aside one day, and said: "Does mamma look sick to you?" "She looks as if she cried a great deal." "But does she look as if she was going to die?" "To die!" he repeated. "Yes, to die," said Julia. What heart lay developed under the lad's vest died within him. This, then, was the penalty that lay before him; his crime was to kill his mother! "Who says she's going to die?" he asked, roughly. "No one says so, but I know she is. Read _that_." Bob took the little note the child handed him, and read it in silence: MY DEARLY LOVED JULIA:-- Not very long ago your energetic little hands undertook to arrange my bureau drawers for me. Coming in suddenly I misunderstood the disorder of my room, and drove you from it angrily. It was wrong; I am sorry for it; I have asked God to forgive me, and now I ask you to forgive your poor, faulty MOTHER. "I'll bet she _is_ going to die," said Bob. "Never knew her to do anything like that before. I've been an awfully horrid fellow. I wish I hadn't." "I've been horrid, too," said Julia. "And _I_ wish I hadn't." "You've been splendid compared with me," said Bob. "Let's go and tell Esther," suggested Julia.