Miss Webb says she's sorry for a man whose wife is too active in the
church. Mrs. Pryor is. She leads all the responses; and as for the
chants, she takes them right out of the choir's mouth and soars off with
them.

I never could bear her; and when I heard her say those words to Mrs.
Marsden, I came right down to earth and was Martha Cary in a minute. I'd
been Mary all day, and, like a splash in a mud-puddle, she made me
Martha; and I heard myself say:

"No, Mrs. Pryor, we know you don't approve. You never yet have let a
child here forget she was a Charity child, and only people who make
others happy will approve."

Then I walked away as quiet as a Nun's daughter. But I was burning hot
all the same, and so surprised at the way Martha spoke, so serious and
unlike the way she usually speaks when mad, that I had to go on the back
porch and make snowballs and throw hard at something before I was all
right again.

But I wouldn't let it ruin my beautiful day. I wouldn't.

That night, when I went to bed, I was so tired out with happiness I
couldn't half say my prayers. But I knew God understood. He let the
Christ-child be born poor and lowly, so He could understand about
Charity children, and everybody else who goes wrong because they don't
know how to go right. So I just thanked Him, and thanked Him in my
heart.