Wasn't he sorry?"

"He was very sorry. It almost killed him. He would gladly have worked to
give the money back but he could not earn so much. He saw how foolish
and wicked he had been to think himself so strong and trustworthy and
good when he was so weak. And when he saw how wicked he was he fell down
before God and asked God to forgive him. His life was spoiled, he could
not be happy in this world; but, as God forgave him, he could begin
again and be honest and trustworthy, and be happy in Heaven because he
was a great sinner and Christ had died for him."

"Did his sins _hurt_ Christ?" Prue asked.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry he hurt Christ," said Prue sorrowfully.

"He was sorry, too."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, he died, and we hope he is in Heaven tonight, praising God for
saving sinners."

"I don't think that is such a sad story. It would be sad if God never did
forgive him. It was bad to be in prison, but he got out and wasn't wicked
any more. Did you ever see him, Aunt Prue?"

"Yes, dear, many times."

"Did you love him?"

"I loved him better than I loved anybody, and Uncle John loved him."

"Was he ever in this room?"

"Yes. He has been many times in this chair in which you and I are
sitting; he used to love to hear me play on that piano; and we used to
walk in the garden together, and he called me 'Prue' and not Aunt Prue,
as you do."

"Aunt Prue!" the child's voice was frightened. "I know who your story is
about."

"Your dear papa!"

"Yes, my dear papa!"

"And aren't you glad he is safe through it all, and God his forgiven
him?"

"Yes, I'm glad; but I'm sorry he was in that prison."

"He was happy with you, afterward, you know. He had your mamma and she
loved him, and then he had you and you loved him."

"But I'm sorry."

"So am I, darling, and so is Uncle John; we are all sorry, but we are
glad now because it is all over and he cannot sin any more or suffer any
more. I wanted to tell you while you were little, so that somebody would
not tell you when you grow up. When you think about him, thank God that
he forgave him,--that is the happy part of it."

"Why didn't papa tell me?"

"He knew I would tell you some day, if you had to know. I would rather
tell you than have any one else in the world tell you."

"I won't tell anybody, ever. I don't want people to know my papa was in a
prison. I asked him once what a prison was like and he would not tell
me much."

She kept her head on Miss Pru