Both had tried to injure him; both had
succeeded. He wished them no harm: he didn't want to choke or drown them,
as he had felt like doing at noon, but clearly he didn't want to pray for
them. He had arisen from his knees, and was sitting on the edge of the
box which was his table and chair, with a very troubled face. The more he
thought about it, the more he felt that he could not pray for those boys
just then. At last he thought he had found a way out of the difficulty.
He said to himself that he was very tired, almost sick; he would just
repeat the Lord's Prayer and go to bed. In the morning, very likely, he
should feel differently; he almost knew he should. So he knelt down once
more.
"Our Father which art in heaven," slowly reverently, through the sweet
petition, until he came to "forgive us our debts as we"--There he
stopped. He understood that prayer; they had been taking it up in Sunday
school, a sentence at a time, and talking about it, and only the Sunday
before last that sentence had been explained. To-night Tip could not
finish it; there was no getting around the fact that he had not forgiven
either Ellis or Bob.
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