waiting for her when she died and took her
soul away with him."

"I am glad, my child," said her mother, sometime after this
conversation, "that you love to come to me with things that trouble you;
for as you're going to school now, you can not help hearing and seeing
many things that I would rather keep from you until you're older. You'll
see and hear many things that you should allow no place in your life;
but if you'll always come to me, I'll instruct you so that they'll not
be harmful to you. When I was a child, how I longed for some one in whom
I could confide! My mother was a good woman, but she didn't realize how
I often longed to unburden my heart to her. Father understood this
desire, and we often had confidential talks.

"I shall never forget my gratitude when he took me upon his knee one day
and told me about many dangers young girls must meet and explained how I
might avoid them. His words were just in time; for I had often been
allowed to spend the evening at the home of a little friend, who, like
myself, was not taught how to meet danger. At first our play had been
innocent sports, but a short time before my father's talk a cousin had
come to board with the family and attend school. He at once encouraged
us to play a game of cards with him. As I knew nothing of the evil of
card-playing, I was eager to learn; for he gave me much praise and
allowed me to win very often, always rewarding me with a pile of candy.
The appearance of so much candy in my possession had led to my father's
talk. As father unfolded the nature of card-playing and gambling, a
horror for them that has never left me came into my heart. After this I
often sought my father's counsel; his faithful admonitions and tender
words of encouragement caused me to have more and more confidence in
him."

Mrs. Worthington sighed deeply as she continued, "The memory of my dear
father is sacred, Bessie. Many times I've thanked the Lord that my
father knew the worth of prayer and the value of the confidence of his
children. He helped me to tide over the most critical period of my life,
and I love to recall the encouragement of his devoted life."

CHAPTER VI.

CONSCIENCE.

One day when Bessie was about eight years old, she said: "Mama, you've
often told me that if I'd listen to the voice of conscience it would
keep me out of danger. What is conscience? I don't understand."

"My dear child," answered her mother, "your happiness depends upo