and so on, but his thoughts were not on what he was saying; he was listening to every sound outside the room, and he kept looking towards the door as if he expected something terrible to come in at any moment; and in his restless movements it was plain to see what a state of fear he was in.  When he had reached the end of his hymn,

    “Oh Father, spare thy rod;
     Send us sweet sleep, Oh God;
     Let our sick neighbor slumber, too”—­

he suddenly burst into tears, and clinging tight to his mother he sobbed out,

“The child will not be able to sleep, and God will punish us dreadfully.”

“What are you talking about, dear Wili?” asked his mother tenderly.  “Come, tell me what has happened.  I have seen all day that something was the matter, and feared that you had been doing something wrong.  What is it?  Tell me.”

“We, we—­perhaps we have shot a child!”

“What do you mean?” cried his mother, now thoroughly alarmed, for she instantly recalled having seen the doctor hurry by to the cottage when they were at dinner.

“It cannot be!  Do tell me all about it, clearly, so that I can understand.”

And Wili gave as good an account as he could, of what he and Lili had been about that morning, and of their being so frightened at the cry of pain which followed the shooting of the arrow, that they had run away as fast as possible.  And now they were so very miserable, that they did not want to live any longer, and both wanted to die, and to be done with it all.

“Now you see, my Wili, what disobedience leads to,” were the mother’s serious words after she had listened to the boy’s sad story.  “You did not mean to do anything but play a little while with the bow, but your father knew very well when he forbade your touching it, how great the danger was.  We do not know what evil consequences may follow your disobedience, but we will pray the dear Father in heaven to avert the evil, and turn it to good if possible.”

Then Wili repeated after his mother a short prayer, and never had he prayed so earnestly as now, with his heart full of dread for the results of his naughty conduct.  Indeed he could scarcely stop praying; it seemed to relieve his heart to lay all his sorrow before his Heavenly Father, and beg his forgiveness and help.

And now he could look in his mother’s eyes again as he bade her good-night.

Lili was waiting in the next room, for her turn to talk to this same good mother.

“Are you ready to say your prayers, Lili?” The little girl began, paused, began again and stopped in the middle.  Presently she stammered out,

“Mamma I cannot pray, for God is angry with me.”

“What have you done, Lili, to make him angry?”

Lili was silent, and sat pulling at the sheet, for she was naturally obstinate, and found it hard to own a fault.

“If the good God is not pleased with you, I certainly cannot be.  Good night, my child, sleep well—­that is if you can.”