iny curls, "perhaps mother can."

"When did you have yours?" Marjorie persisted.

"One day when I was reading about the little girl in the Sandwich
Islands. Her father was a missionary there, and she wrote in her journal
how she felt and I felt so, too,"

"Did you put it in your journal?"

"Some of it."

"Did you show it to mother?"

"Yes."

"Was she glad?"

"Yes, she kissed me and said her prayers were answered."

Marjorie looked very grave. She wished she could be as old as Linnet and
have "experience" to write in her journal and have her mother kiss her
and say her prayers were answered.

"Do you have it all the time?" she questioned anxiously as Linnet hurried
in from the kitchen with a small platter of sliced ham in her hand.

"Not every day; I do some days."

"I want it every day."

"You call them to tea when I tell you. And you may help me bring things
in."

When Marjorie opened the parlor door to call them to tea she heard Mr.
Woodfern inquire:

"Do all your children belong to the Lord?"

"The two in heaven certainly do, and I think Linnet is a Christian," her
mother was saying.

"And Marjorie," he asked.

"You know there are such things; I think Marjorie's heart was changed in
her cradle."

With the door half opened Marjorie stood and heard this lovely story
about herself.

"It was before she was three years old; one evening I undressed her and
laid her in the cradle, it was summer and she was not ready to go to
sleep; she had been in a frolic with Linnet and was all in a gale of
mischief. She arose up and said she wanted to get out; I said 'no,' very
firmly, 'mamma wants you to stay.' But she persisted with all her might,
and I had to punish her twice before she would consent to lie still; I
was turning to leave her when I thought her sobs sounded more rebellious
than subdued, I knelt down and took her in my arms to kiss her, but she
drew back and would not kiss me. I saw there was no submission in her
obedience and made up my mind not to leave her until she had given up her
will to mine. If you can believe it, it was two full hours before she
would kiss me, and then she couldn't kiss me enough. I think when she
yielded to my will she gave up so wholly that she gave up her whole being
to the strongest and most loving will she knew. And as soon as she knew
God, she knew--or I knew--that she had submitted to him."

"Come to tea," called Marjorie, joyfully, a moment later.

This lov