```Two voices cry, "Be good, papa,
````Don't work too hard to-day!"
```And I turn to see the waving hands
````Of my little Beth and Faye.=
```Two girls of bright and sunny hair,
````Of deep and thoughtful eyes;
```And in their voices, touched with love,
````What tender magic lies!=
````All day, along the crowded street,
````Within the busy town,
````I seem to hear their voices sweet;
`````They chase me up and down.=
[Illustration: 0038]
````And their dear words of
`````warning love
```Pursue, where'er I
`````go;
```They mean far more,
`````far more to me
```Than those who speak
`````them know.=
```Have I no helping hand to reach
````Out to my brother's need?
```Do I seek my gain by others' loss?
````Am I led to some wrong deed?=
````Do temptations press, within, without?
`````Do wrong impulses urge?
````Of some dishonorable act
`````Stand I upon the verge?=
```Then comes that message, soft and clear,
````From the dear home, miles away.
````"Be good, papa! be good, papa!"
````The childish voices say.=
```There rise before my faltering eyes
````My little Beth and Faye.
```I feel I dare not do the wrong;
````I dare not go astray.=
--FRANK FOXCROFT.
[Illustration: 0039]