Grandma had occasionally given us lumps of sugar out of it;
and I now asked Georgia if I hadn't better get it down, so that we
could each have a lump of sugar. Hesitatingly, she said, "No, I am
afraid you will break it." I assured her that I would be very careful,
and at once set a chair in place and climbed up. It was quite a strain
to reach the bowl, so I lifted it down and rested it on the lower
shelf, expecting to turn and put it into Georgia's hands. But, somehow,
before I could do this, the lid slipped off and lay in two pieces upon
the floor. Georgia cried out reproachfully,
"There, you know I didn't want you to do it, and now you will get a
good whipping for breaking grandma's best sugar bowl!"
I replied loftily that I was not afraid, because I would ask God to
mend it for me. She did not think He would do it, but I did. So I
matched the broken edges and put it on the chair, knelt down before it
and said "Please" when I made my request. I touched the pieces very
carefully, and pleaded more earnestly each time that I found them
unchanged. Finally, Georgia, watching at the door, said excitedly,
"Here comes grandma!"
I arose, so disappointed and chagrined that I scarcely heard her as she
entered and spoke to me. I fully believed that He would have mended
that cover if she had remained away a little longer; nevertheless, I
was so indignant at Him for being so slow about it, that I stood
unabashed while Georgia told all that had happened.
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