"Why it was more impolite to tell people what was foolish in their
appearance, than to laugh about this appearance in their absence?"

It was difficult to answer these questions, without casting a shade
over those whom Dora wished the child to love and respect. Sometimes
she told the little girl that it would often hurt people's feelings and
make them very miserable, to know just what others thought of them. And
yet the child would reply: "You say that if we would listen to God's
little voice in our hearts, it would tell us all that is wrong. Why
does he want to hurt folks' feelings? You had me read in the Bible
about the truth, how, if we come to love it, it would make us free; but
mamma says it is often impolite to speak the truth."

Dora felt, as many under similar circumstances have felt, the earnest
question pressing upon her heart: "Who is sufficient for these things?"
and with greater trembling was it asked, as Emma grew in stature and
increased in knowledge; for she saw that with the good seeds thorns had
sprung up. Emma began to pride herself upon independent thought and
action, and to show symptoms of haughty disdain toward those who
stooped to the deceit of fashionable etiquette. Dora was often pained
to hear her speak of things done and said, not for truth's sake, but
because it _plagued_ others. It was evident that she was beginning to
exult in the embarrassment which she often occasioned, but saw not the
wicked self hiding beneath her garb of truth. Dora tried hard to point
out this inward foe, but, with the blindness of a natural heart, Emma,
having eyes, saw not; and the good woman knew well, that the child
could not see, unless He that openeth the eyes of the blind should say
unto her, "Receive thy sight." She told her of that charity which
hopeth, believeth, and endureth all things; which, giving no place to
falsehood, still never behaveth itself unseemly. She warned Emma of the