"Good-night, dear Diana," said the two little voices, as she stooped to
kiss them.
"Good-night, master and missy. Sleep well, and don't be frightened if
you're wakened up. I'll be here." Then, as she was turning away, she
hesitated. "Do you really think now," she said, "that it's any good
praying for a wild gipsy girl like me?"
"Of course it is," said Pamela, starting up again. "Why shouldn't it be
as much good for you as for any one? If you want to be good--and I think
you are good, Diana--you can't help praying to God. For all the good
comes from Him. That's what Grandmamma told us. And He puts little bits
of His good into us."
Diana looked puzzled.
"Yes," persisted Pamela, nodding her head. "There's like a little voice
that speaks inside us--that tells us when we're" (Pamela could use the
word "we," as correctly as possible when speaking in general, not merely
of Duke and herself) "naughty and when we're good."
In her turn Diana nodded her head.
"And the more we listen to it the plainer we hear it," added Pamela.
"_Us_ didn't listen to it when us found that Toby had brokened the
bowl," said Duke gravely. "At least I didn't, and it leaves off speaking
when people doesn't listen."
Diana had long ago heard the story of the beginning of the children's
troubles.
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