Ida's New Shoes by Madeline Leslie

"Do you know, my love, who made you?"

"Yes, mamma; God made me and Berty and all the folks."

"And what did he make you for, Ida?"

"I don't know, mamma."

"He made you and all his creatures, to be good, and to do good."

"I'm good now, mamma; I don't kick any. " And Ida looked the picture of self-complacence.

"Yes, dear, no one can be better than you, when you try; but I am sorry to say you don't always try. Do you know the good God in the sky looks down upon you then, and is very much displeased?"

"Then, what do you pray to him for?"

Mrs. Kent sighed. "Because," she answered, "I am afraid, if my little girl does not try to correct her naughty temper, that God will punish her. I ask him to forgive you, and help you do right; and then ask him to give me strength to govern you according to his will."

"I won't never be naughty again, mamma; I'm going to be your good little Ida all the time now."

"Dear child, if I could believe that, a heavy burden would be lifted off my heart."

It was scarcely half an hour later that Berty came in from school eating an orange which a companion had given him.

"I want an orange, mamma," cried Ida, her face flushing.

"Berty will give you a piece of his; dear."

"I would, mamma; but the juice is all sucked out. See Ida, it's nothing but skin."

"I want an orange! I will have an orange! " began the little girl, kicking and screaming with all her strength.

Mrs. Kent put her handkerchief to her face. The disappointment was too bitter. Ida had seemed so penitent, she had really hoped her heart was touched, and would not show such temper again.

"What a naughty girl! " said Berty. "See, you've made mamma cry!"

Ida stopped kicking; stood for a moment irresolute; then she ran and laid her head in her mother's lap.

"I'm sorry, mamma; I don't want an orange now. Take away your handkerchief. See, I'm a good girl."