"Papa," he said, tossing
back his yellow curls, a look of determination on his little fair face,
"I'll not shirk my 'sponsibilities. I'm just going to try with all my
might to be a better boy."
"Good for you, Stevie!" cried papa, kissing him warmly. "I know
mamma'll be glad, and I'm sure you'll be a much pleasanter boy to live
with. But you must ask God to help you, or you'll never succeed, son;
and besides, you've got to keep a tight watch on yourself all the time,
you know."
"Yes, I s'pose so," agreed Stevie, with a little sigh, "'cause feelings
are such hard things to manage; and, papa, please don't tell Kate and
Eva, or Hitty." Papa nodded, and then they went to tell mamma the
result of the talk.
Stevie did "try with all his might" for the next few days, and with
such good results as to astonish all but his papa and mamma, who, as
you know, were in the secret. Eva confided to Kate that she thought
Stevie was certainly like "the little girl with the curl," for if when
he was "bad he was horrid," "when he was good he was very, very good;"
and Mehitabel watched him closely, and hoped "he wasn't sickening for
measles or Italian fever.
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