She grew quiet and patient--"painfully patient," her father said.

Indeed, Mr.Parlin, as well as his wife, feared the little sufferer was ripening for heaven.
"Mamma," said she, one day, "mamma, you never snip my fingers any nowadays do you?
When I'm just as naughty, you never snip my fingers!" Mrs.Parlin turned her face away.

There were tears in her eyes, and she did not like to look at those little white fingers, which she was almost afraid would never have the natural, childish naughtiness in them any more.
"I think sick and patient little girls don't need punishing," said she, after a while.

"Do you remember how you used to think I snipped your hands to 'get the naughty out ?' You thought the naughty was all in your little hands!" "But it wasn't, mamma," said Prudy, slowly and solemnly.

"I know where it was: it was in my _heart_." "Who can take the naughty out of our hearts, dear?
Do you ever think ?" "Our Father in heaven.