Unless she can do it, it will never come to pass, for I
haven't the courage to ask her. I would rather run away early in the
morning and go home than have her look at me again as she did to-day.
Oh! what shall I do?' and Polly went down on her knees beside the
rough couch, and sobbed her heart out in a childish prayer for help
and comfort. It was just the prayer of a little child telling a
sorrowful story; because it is when we are alone and in trouble that
the unknown and mysterious God seems to us most like a Father, and we
throw ourselves into the arms of His love like helpless children, and
tell Him our secret thoughts and griefs.
'Dear Father in heaven,' she sobbed, 'don't forgive me if I ought not
to be forgiven, but please make Aunt Truth feel how sorry I am, and
show me whether I ought to tell what made me so angry, though it's no
excuse. Bless and keep my darling patient little mother, and help me
to grow more like her, and braver and stronger too, so that I can
take care of her soon, and she needn't work hard any longer. Please
forgive me for hating some things in my life as much as I do, and I
will try and like them better; but I think--yes, I know--that I am
full of wicked pride; and oh, it seems as if I could never, never get
over wanting to live in a pretty house, and wear pretty dresses, and
have my mother live like Bell's and Margery's. And oh, if Thou canst
only forgive me for hating boarders so dreadfully, and being ashamed
of them every minute, I will try and like them better and tell
everybody that we take them--I will indeed; and if I can only once
make Aunt Truth love and trust me again, I will make the boarders'
beds and dust their rooms for ever without grumbling.
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