“It pains me exceedingly to do it, but I must not consider my own feelings where my dear child’s best interests are concerned.”

“Is it because I asked you to do it, papa?” she inquired.  “I never thought you would when I said it.”

“No; I have been thinking seriously on the subject ever since you behaved so badly the day of the ‘squantum,’ and had very nearly decided the question just as I have fully decided it now.  I know you are an honest child, even when the truth is against you; tell me, do you not yourself think that I am right?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, low and tremulously, after a moment’s struggle with herself.  “Oh, please do it at once, so it will be over soon!”

“I will,” he said, rising and leading her into the inner room; “you shall not have the torture of anticipation a moment longer.”

Though the punishment was severe beyond Lulu’s worst anticipations, she bore it without outcry or entreaty, feeling that she richly deserved it, and determined that no one who might be within hearing should learn from any sound she uttered what was going on.  Tears and now and then a half-suppressed sob were the only evidences of suffering that she allowed herself to give.

Her father was astonished at her fortitude, and more than ever convinced that she had in her the elements of a noble character.

The punishment over, he took her in his arms, laying her head against his breast.  Both were silent, her tears falling like rain.

At length, with a heart-broken sob, “You hurt me terribly, papa,” she said; “I didn’t think you would ever want to hurt me so.”

“I did not want to,” he answered in moved tones; “it was sorely against my inclination, I cannot tell you how gladly I should have borne twice the pain for you if so I could have made you a good girl.  I know you have sometimes troubled yourself with foolish fears that you had less than your fair share of my affection; but I have not a child that is nearer or dearer to me than you are, my darling.  I love you very much.”

“I’m so glad, papa; I ’most wonder you can,” she sobbed; “and I love you dearly, dearly; I know I’ve not been acting like it lately, but I do, and just as much now as before.  Oh, papa, you don’t know how hard it is for me to be good!”

“I think I do,” he said; “for I am naturally quite as bad as you are, having a violent temper, which would most certainly have been my ruin had I not been forced to learn to control it; indeed I fear it is from me you get your temper.

“I had a good Christian mother,” he went on, “who was very faithful in her efforts to train her children up aright.  My fits of passion gave her great concern and anxiety.  I can see now how troubled and distressed she used to look.