“But we poor mothers had no chance.  We could not teach our children.”

“I think you could teach some of them more than they wish to learn; but I must go now; at some other time we will talk on this subject.”

Chapter II

“Oh, Annette!” said Mrs. Harcourt, turning to her granddaughter after Mr. Thomas had left the door; “What makes you so naughty?  Why did you pour that oil on Mrs. Larkin’s steps; didn’t you know it was wrong?”

Annette stood silent looking like a guilty culprit.

“Why don’t you answer me; what makes you behave so bad?”

“I don’t know, grandma, I ’specs I did it for the devil.  The preacher said the devil makes people do bad things.”

“The preacher didn’t say any such thing; he said the devil tempts people to be bad, but you are not to mind every thing the devil tells you to do, if you do, you will get yourself into a lot of trouble.”

“Well, grandma, Mrs. Larkins is so mean and cross and she is always telling tales on me and I just did it for fun.”

“Well, that is very poor fun.  You deserve a good whipping, and I’ve a great mind to give it to you now.”

“Why don’t she let me alone; she is all the time trying to get you to beat me.  She’s a spiteful old thing anyhow.  I don’t like her, and I know she don’t like me.”

“Hush Annette, you must not talk that way of any one so much older than yourself.  When I was a child I wouldn’t have talked that way about any old person.  Don’t let me hear you talk that way again.  You will never rest till I give you a good whipping.”

“Yes ma’m,” said Annette very demurely.

“Oh, Annette!” said her grandmother with a sudden burst of feeling.  “You do give me so much trouble.  You give me more worry than all my six children put together; but there is always one scabby sheep in the flock and you will be that one.  Now get ready for school and don’t let me hear any more complaints about you; I am not going to let you worry me to death.”

Annette took up her bonnet and glided quietly out of the door, glad to receive instead of the threatened whipping a liberal amount of talk, and yet the words struck deeper than blows.  Her own grandmother had prophesied evil things of her.  She was to be the scabby sheep of the flock.  The memory of the blows upon her body might have passed soon away after the pain and irritation of the infliction were over, but that inconsiderate prophecy struck deep into her heart and left its impress upon her unfolding life.  Without intending it, Mrs. Harcourt had struck a blow at the child’s self-respect; one of the things which she should have strengthened, even if it was “ready to die.”  Annette had entered life sadly handicapped.  She was the deserted child of a selfish and unprincipled man and a young mother whose giddiness and lack of self-control had caused her to trail the robes of her womanhood