rather confusing
confessions, she is far too much engaged to be disturbed, but when the
communication is fairly over, and she cuddles on your knee for the
kissing and caressing she so much appreciates, you have a chance of
explaining things a little.

She listened seriously that evening, I remember, then, slipping down off
my knee, she added as a sort of postscript, very reverently, "O Lord
Jesus, I prayed it wrong. I was naughtier than L., much naughtier. But
indeed Thou wilt remember that she was naughty first. . . . Oh, that's
not it! It was not L., it was me! And I was impatient with those little
children. But . . . but they caused impatience within me." Then getting
hopelessly mixed up between self-condemnation and self-justification,
she gave it up, adding, however, "Next time we play together, give
_them_ more grace to play patiently with me," which was so far
satisfactory, as at first she had scouted the idea that there could be
any need of patience on the other side.

Sometimes she brings me perplexities not new to most of us. "This
morning I prayed with great desire, 'Lord, keep me to-day from being
naughty at all,' and I was naughty an hour afterwards; I looked at the
clock and saw. How was it I was naughty when I wanted to be good? The
naughtiness jumped up inside me, so"--(illustrating its supposed action
within), "and it came running out. So what is the use of praying?"

Once the difficulty was rather opposite.

"Can you be good without God's grace?"

I told her I certainly could not.

"Well, I can!" she answered delightedly. "I want to pray now."

"Now? It is eight o'clock now. Haven't you had prayer long ago?" (We all
get up at six o'clock.)

"No. That's just what I meant. I skipped my prayer this morning, and so
of course I got no grace; but I have been helping the elder Sisters.
Wasn't that right?"

"Yes, quite right."

"And yet I hadn't got any grace! But I suppose," she added reflectively,
"it was the grace over from yesterday that did it."

As a rule she is not distinguished for very deep penitence, but at one
time she had what she called "a true sense of sin" which fluctuated
rather, but was always hailed, when it appeared in force, as a sign of
better things. After a day of mixed goodness and badness the Elf prayed
most devoutly, "I thank Thee for giving me a sense of sin to-day. O God,
keep me from being at all naughty to-morrow. But if I am naughty, Lord,
give me a true sense of s