"What did _you_ come for?" said Kitty, looking up.
Tip hesitated a minute, then told the plain truth.
"I came after you."
"I suppose I know that: you didn't come before me."
"I mean I came to _see_ you."
"Well, look at me, then, and go off; I don't want you here."
Clearly, whatever was to be said must be said quickly, and Tip's heart
was very full of its message, so his voice was tender:
"Oh, Kitty, I came to ask you if you _wouldn't_ be a Christian. I _do_
want it so, it seems as if I couldn't wait."
Kitty looked steadily and gravely at her brother. "What do you mean by
'be a Christian?'" she asked at last.
"I mean love Jesus, and do as He says."
"What'll I love Him for?"
"'Cause you can't help it, when you find out how much He loves you, and
all the things He does for you."
"What does He say do?"
"He says be good; try to do right things all the time."
Kitty's eyes flashed. "Now, ain't you mean," she said angrily, "to come
and tell me such things, when you know I ain't good, and _can't_ be good?
Isn't mother ugly and cross and scolding to me all the time? and don't I
have to work and work, _always_, and never have anything? And I'm cross
and get mad, and I _will_, too.
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