"O Larry," she stammered, contritely, "it was an accident! See!
Marion Gaines gave me those lovely May-flowers, and I thought you'd be
pleased to have them in your vase. Just as I went to put it back, it
fell over. I'm awfully sorry!"

Larry's eyes flashed angrily, and his face grew crimson.

"Abby Clayton," he broke out, "you are always meddling! Why can't you
let things that don't belong to you alone?"'

A storm of reproaches would no doubt have followed, but just then his
angry glance turned toward the statue. There stood the image of Our
Lady, so meek and beautiful and mild. And there, in a tiny frame at
the front of the altar, hung father Dominic's words of advice: "Try
every day to do some little thing to honor our Blessed Mother."

Larry paused suddenly; for his indignation almost choked him. But in
that moment of silence he had time to reflect. What should he do
to-day to honor the Blessed Virgin, now that his little vase was
broken? He looked again at the statue. The very sight of the sweet
face suggested gentler thoughts, and counselled kindness, meekness, and
forbearance.

"Well, Abby," he blurted out, "I suppose I'll have to forgive you; but,
oh, how I wish I were only six years old, so that I could cry!"

So saying, Larry laid the buttercups at the feet of Our Lady's statue,
and rushed from the room.