I mean that this is usually so. This
morning I cried a good deal while I was on my knees, and felt sorry
for my quick temper and all my bad ways. If I always felt so, perhaps
praying would not be such a task. I wish I knew whether anybody
exactly as bad as I am ever got to heaven at last. I have read ever
so many memoirs, and they were all about people who were too good to
live, and so died; or else went on a mission. I am not at all like
any of them.
March 26.-I have been so busy that I have not said much to you, you
poor old journal, you, have I? Somehow I have been behaving quite
nicely lately. Everything has gone on exactly to my mind. Mother has
not found fault with me once, and father has praised my drawings and
seemed proud of me. He says he shall not tell me what my teachers say
of me lest it should make me vain. And once or twice when he has met
me singing and frisking about the house he has kissed me and called
me his dear little Flibbertigibbet, if that's the way to spell it.
When he says that I know he is very fond of me. We are all very happy
together when nothing goes wrong. In the long evenings we all sit
around the table with our books and our work, and one of us reads
aloud. Mother chooses the book and takes her turn in reading. She
reads beautifully. Of course the readings do not begin till the
lessons are all learned.
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