"It was, perhaps, one of the penalties sure to follow a similar line of conduct," he said slowly. "She'll remember it, you'll find, better than one of Mrs. Stanford's whippings." [Illustration: "She'll remember it, you'll find, better than one of Mrs. Stanford's whippings"] He turned to look at his wife with a smile. "'It hurts mother more than it does you, darling!'" he quoted with a grimace. "I thought that particular sort of cant was out of date. An irascible person who flies into a rage and frankly administers punishment on the spot I can understand. I used to get a thrashing of that sort about once in so often from Aunt Julia; and I don't remember hating her for it. Where did Marian dig up such rank nonsense?" "At her 'Mothers' Club,' I suppose," Elizabeth told him with a disdainful curl of her pretty lips. "I went once and heard a woman say that she always prayed with her child first and whipped him severely afterward." "Beastly cant!" groaned Sam disgustedly. "I'm glad you don't go in for that sort of thing, Betty." "It would drive me to almost anything, if I were a child and had to endure it," Elizabeth said positively. Both parents were silent for a long minute, and both appeared to be listening for the sound of muffled sobbing from above stairs. "You--you'll forgive her--to-morrow; won't you, Sam?" whispered Elizabeth. "Forgive her?" he echoed. "You know I'm not really angry with her, Betty; but if we can teach our small daughter through her affections to control her passions, can't you see what it will do for the child? Perhaps," he added under his breath, "that is what--God--does with us. Sometimes--we are allowed to suffer. I have been, and--I know I have profited by it." Sam Brewster was not one of those who talk over-familiarly of their Maker. A word like this meant that he was profoundly moved. Elizabeth's eyes dwelt on her husband with a trust and affection which spoke louder than words. After a while she laid her hand in his. "If you would always advise me with the children," she murmured, "I'm sure we could--help them to be good." "That is it, Betty," he said, meeting her misty look with a smile. "We cannot force our children into goodness, or torture them into wisdom--even if we can compel them to a show of submission which they would make haste to throw off when they are grown. But we can help them to choose the good, now and as long as we live. And we'll do it, little mother; for I'm not going to shirk my part of it in the future. As you said long ago, it's the most important thing in the world for us to do just now." XVIII Perhaps because she had cried herself to sleep the night before, Doris awakened late the next morning to find Carroll at her bedside completely dressed and with the shining morning face which follows prolonged scrubbing with soap and water. "Has daddy gone?" she inquired anxiously, as she rubbed the dreams out of her brown eyes.