THE ORANGES.
"Do you know, my love, who made you?"
"Yes, mamma; God made me and Berty and all the folks."
"And what did he make you for, Ida?"
"I don't know, mamma."
"He made you and all his creatures, to be good, and to do good."
"I'm good now, mamma; I don't kick any." And Ida looked the picture of
self-complacence.
"Yes, dear, no one can be better than you, when you try; but I am sorry
to say you don't always try. Do you know the good God in the sky looks
down upon you then, and is very much displeased?"
"Then, what do you pray to him for?"
Mrs. Kent sighed. "Because," she answered, "I am afraid, if my little
girl does not try to correct her naughty temper, that God will punish
her. I ask him to forgive you, and help you do right; and then ask him
to give me strength to govern you according to his will."
"I won't never be naughty again, mamma; I'm going to be your good
little Ida all the time now."
"Dear child, if I could believe that, a heavy burden would be lifted
off my heart."
It was scarcely half an hour later that Berty came in from school
eating an orange which a companion had given him.
"I want an orange, mamma," cried Ida, her face flushing.
"Berty will give you a piece of his; dear."
"I would, mamma; but the juice is all sucked out. See Ida, it's nothing
but skin."
"I want an orange! I will have an orange!" began the little girl,
kicking and screaming with all her strength.
Mrs. Kent put her handkerchief to her face. The disappointment was too
bitter. Ida had seemed so penitent, she had really hoped her heart was
touched, and would not show such temper again.
"What a naughty girl!" said Berty. "See, you've made mamma cry!"
Ida stopped kicking; stood for a moment irresolute; then she ran and
laid her head in her mother's lap.
"I'm sorry, mamma; I don't want an orange now. Take away your
handkerchief. See, I'm a good girl."
Mrs. Kent gazed in the child's face. It was beaming with the new
delight of having conquered. She took Ida in her arms; pressing her to
her heart.
"You have made mamma very happy," she said, kissing her again and
again. "Now I know you do mean to try and conquer those wicked
passions. Berty, go to the store, darling, and buy the largest orange
you call find. Buy two large ones. We must have them cut up for supper;
and Ida shall sprinkle sugar on them and help us all herself from the
glass dish. I want papa and Aunt Mary and nurse to know that my dear
little girl is determined to be good; that she has begun already to
conquer herself."
I wish you could have seen Ida. She danced about the room, kissing
mamma ever so many times, and kept running to the window to see whether
Berty was coming.
Mrs. Kent looked as happy as her little girl. "Oh, if this will only
last!" she said to herself. And then she lifted her heart in prayer to
her heavenly Father, beseeching him to put good thoughts into Ida's
mind.
When tea was on the table, mamma brought forward the nice dish of
orange, and put it before Ida's plate. Then she took the bowl from the
tray and said—
"There, love, you may sprinkle on the sugar now. You have been very
patient while I cut the oranges."
Ida took the sugar-spoon and began her work. She did not smile. She
looked very solemn as if she felt the importance of the trust.
"Why, what is this?" asked papa, coming behind her on tiptoe.
"O papa!" Ida was so excited she sprang almost out of her chair. "I'm
going to help the oranges to you and everybody. I've began to be good,
and mamma won't have to pray for me any more."
"You have, indeed, arrived at a state of perfection, if that is no
longer necessary," replied Mr. Rent, with a smile; "but I want to hear
all the particulars of so important a change."
"Mamma will tell you about it. Oh, I'm so good!" and her eyes sparkled
with happiness.
"Papa would like best to hear it from his little girl," said mamma,
kissing her. "Then we will sit down to tea, and you may help us to your
oranges."
The child looked somewhat confused, not knowing exactly where to begin.
"You know," said Berty, "you began to kick and scream because you
wanted my orange."
"Yes, papa; and I saw mamma crying behind her handkerchief; and I
didn't kick any more. I said right off I'd be good; and then mamma
hugged me awfully. Now may I help to the orange?"
"Wait a minute, dear, till papa has thanked the good God for helping
his little girl do right."
Papa kissed her with a tear twinkling in his eye. After he had asked
God's blessing on the food, Ida began her pleasant task, passing each
a few pieces of the fruit and laughing gayly as Aunt Mary, Berty, and
papa said, "Thank you, Miss Kent."