rain
to reach the bowl, so I lifted it down and rested it on the lower
shelf, expecting to turn and put it into Georgia's hands. But, somehow,
before I could do this, the lid slipped off and lay in two pieces upon
the floor. Georgia cried out reproachfully,

"There, you know I didn't want you to do it, and now you will get a
good whipping for breaking grandma's best sugar bowl!"

I replied loftily that I was not afraid, because I would ask God to
mend it for me. She did not think He would do it, but I did. So I
matched the broken edges and put it on the chair, knelt down before it
and said "Please" when I made my request. I touched the pieces very
carefully, and pleaded more earnestly each time that I found them
unchanged. Finally, Georgia, watching at the door, said excitedly,
"Here comes grandma!"

I arose, so disappointed and chagrined that I scarcely heard her as she
entered and spoke to me. I fully believed that He would have mended
that cover if she had remained away a little longer; nevertheless, I
was so indignant at Him for being so slow about it, that I stood
unabashed while Georgia told all that had happened. The whipping I got
did not make much impression, but the after talks and the banishment
from "good company" were terrible.

Later, when I was called from my hiding-place, grandma saw that I had
been very miserable, and she insisted upon knowing what I had been
thinking about. Then I told her, reluctantly, that I had talked to God
and told Him I did not think that He was a very good Heavenly Father,
or He would not let me get into so much trouble; that I was mad at Him,
and didn't believe He knew how to mend dishes. She covered her face
with her apron and told me, sobbingly, that she had expected me to be
sorry for getting down her sugar bowl and for breaking its cover; that
I was so bad that I would "surely put poor old grandma's gray hair in
her grave, who had got one foot there already and the other on the
brink."

This increased my wretchedness, and I begged her to live just a little
longer so that I might show her that I would be good. She agreed to
give me another trial and ended by telling me about the "beautiful,
wicked angel who had been driven out of paradise, and spends his time
coaxing people to be bad, and then remembers them, and after they die,
takes them on his fork and pitches them back and forth in his fire."
Jakie had told me his name and also the name of his home.

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