Her playthings would keep falling to the floor, and, as she could not stoop at all, some one must come and pick them up that very minute, or they "didn't pity her a bit." Every once in a while, she declared her knee was "broken in seven new places," and the doctor must come and take off the splint.

She didn't want such a hard thing "right on there;" she wanted it "right off." Her mother told her she must try to be patient, and be one of God's little girls.

"But, mamma," said Prudy, "does God love me any?
I should think, if he loved me, he'd be sorrier I was sick, and get me well." Then, sometimes, when she had been more fretful than usual, she would close her eyes, and her mother would hear her say, in a low voice,-- "O, God, I didn't mean to.

It's my _knee_ that's cross!" Upon the whole, I think Prudy was as patient as most children of her age would have been under the same trial.

Her father and mother, who had the most care of her, did not wonder in the least that her poor little nerves got tired out sometimes.
While Susy was at school, Prudy had a long time to think what she wanted her to do when she should come home.