It's Monday today! How many rings at the bell there will be! I should love to be Victoire and answer the door!" exclaimed Therese on awaking one morning.

Pauline overheard her, and after consulting with Marie, she told Therese that as a great treat she would let her give away the food which was always distributed to the poor on Monday mornings. Therese clapped her hands with delight, and put on a solemn expression in keeping with this responsible duty.

At the first sound of the bell, she jumped up, ran to the door, and, opening it gently, handed the bread to the expectant beggar with a smile. The whole morning a long procession of poor people came to the door. Therese had not a moment's rest; she was quite out of breath and flushed with excitement and pleasure. Once, however, she came back in great distress.

"Oh, Pauline!" she said, "there's a poor woman, he is so pale, and has a sick baby in her arms!"

The imploring eyes of the child seemed to beg for something more to give. Her unspoken request was at once granted. She ran off, but was soon back again.

"Pauline," she said with a quiver in her voice, "the beggar woman said to me, 'God bless you, little lady!' "

And overcome by such thanks, she could not keep back her tears.

Therese gave alms, not only on Monday, but often besides, for every afternoon, during the walk, other opportunities of charity occurred, and she would give her penny with a heart full of pity for those in need.

One day, seeing a poor old man dragging himself along on crutches, she ran to meet him. But he looked at her sadly and refused her offering. Therese came back to her father almost crying. She had wanted to help the poor man, and she was afraid she had hurt him. Her kind little heart could not bear the thought. What wast to be done? Her father had just bought her a bun.

"Shall I take it to the poor man?" she said. "He won't have money, but perhaps he will take my bun!"

She wanted to run and give to him, but he had gone too far. She began to cry, but suddenly this idea occurred to her:

"If I have not been able to help this poor man, God can.  Pauline says that our Lord grants everything we ask Him on our First Communion day, so I will pray for my poor old man then." This thought consoled her, and four years later she kept her promise.
 
Who that old man was no one knows, but it would seem as though Our Lord was so touched by the kind thought of little Therese that after she had become a carmelite and had gone to Heaven, He granted through her intercession a wonderful favor to another poor old man who was dying of cancer. He was in the Hospital of the Little Sisters of the Poor at Lisieux, and someone read to him this incident from the life of Therese. It struck him that a child who had been so kind to the suffering poor would surely have pity on him, and so he prayed to her to be cured. His simple faith was rewarded, for his tongue, already half consumed by the cancer, was not only suddenly healed without any human remedy, but grew again fresh and entire.

Thus does God show us the beauty of charity, by the power He has given little Therese in Heaven, as a reward for having practiced it so well on earth. It should never end were I to tell you all she did, or wanted do, for the poor. Her sisters had to restrain her eagerness, and later on she said:

"I could never keep anything and had I been rich, and free to dispose of my wealth, I should have ruined myself, for I could not have seen anyone in poverty without giving him all he needed."

It was this tender compassion for all sufferers which made her ask Our Lord that she might "spend her Heaven in doing good on earth." This He has generously granted, as we may see every day by the wonderful favors she obtains for those who put their trust in her.

A printable file of this chapter and a coloring picture can be found below.

Early every afternoon Therese went out for a walk with her father. They always had a companion on these occasions, a beautiful white spaniel with a long silky coat. During the walk they never missed making a visit to the Blessed Sacrament in one or other of the churches in the town. It was easy for the townsfolk to know to which church they had gone for the devoted "Tom" always stood sentinel at the door. He knew quite well that church is not meant for dogs, and so while his master and little mistress, and while they were saying their prayers, he would wait on the steps as good as gold. If the visit seemed long, he went off to have a game friends close by, but he soon returned to his post, and when they came he bounded round them, barking with delight.

What did Therese say to Our Lord when she went to see Him? Just what came naturally from her heart: "Dear Lord, I love You, I want to love You for those who don’t love You; I want to be always faithful to You, and to make up to You for all the children who never think of You."

While they were out, Therese would ask her father questions about the things she saw, or anything that came into her head. "Papa," she said one day, "what do you say to God when you go to see Him? and to whom did you take off your hat just now? I didn't see anyone."

Her father told her all he said to Jesus in the Tabernacle. He explained to her that he always took off his hat when passing a Church, out of respect for the Blessed Sacrament, also before a Calvary, to honor the Passion, and whenever he met priests, because of their sacred character.

Then Therese continued: "Papa, why do you tell Marie to pay the shopmen quickly?"

"Because, little Queen, we must not live at the expense of others; it is an injustice to make our neighbor work without giving him the payment which is his due. I will tell you a sad story which is true.

"A poor widow with four children, the youngest of them barely two, worked day and night as a milliner to make money to keep her family. The grand ladies for whom she worked paid her very badly, and there were even some who did not pay her at all. She would go back two or three times to the same house, and each time she was turned away. As she herself was honest, and always paid her own debts, a day came when there was nothing to eat in the house, and the children had to go supperless to bed. For several months this sad state of things went on, until at last the poor mother died, worn out with the struggle, leaving four little orphans with no one to care for them."

During this story Therese hung her head, and the tears began to fall. "Oh, Papa," she sobbed in great distress, "what shall we do, that this may never happen again?"

"Well, darling, we will think of what old Tobias said to his son: ‘Remember that the workman deserves his pay; do not sleep even a single night without having paid him his hire.’ I was struck by those words when I was quite a boy."

Then Therese, looking at her father, her eyes round with admiration, exclaimed: "Oh, Papa! if the great men of the Government only knew you, they would make you King, and France would never have been so happy before! But I am glad they don't know you, because you would be unhappy, like all Kings." This outburst of enthusiasm was followed by a silence, after which Therese went on:

"Papa, why do you go to six o'clock Mass every morning in winter, when you could easily go later?"

"Certainly I could, Therese, but I like that Mass, because all the poor people go to it. Besides—I tell you this as if you were a big girl—I go because it gives me the chance of doing a little penance. For penance makes up to God, not for our own sins only but for those of all sinners!"

Therese grew thoughtful. She understood that by making "acts" you correct your faults and offer sacrifices to little Jesus, but how could these same acts help sinners by giving them back the purity of soul which they have lost?

Just at this moment they came to a bend of the road near a stream covered with water lilies. Suddenly there was a loud splash.

"What's that?" cried Therese, and as she spoke Tom's head appeared in the midst of the lilies. Monsieur Martin laughed, and whistled to the dog, who came out dripping.

"What a state you're in, Tom!" said Therese. "Now try and keep still, and don't shake yourself too near us!"

She had hardly said the words when Tom began rolling in the dusty road. In a moment he had lost all his beauty, and looked like a ball of mud.

"How dirty he is!" cried Therese.

"Yes," said her father, "Victoire will have to give him a fine scrubbing when he gets in! That is a picture, hide Queen, of a soul which has soiled itself in the mud of sin, and which needs some charitable hand to wash it clean again!" By this time they had reached home. Therese had walked a long way, and talked a great deal, and she was very thirsty.

"Oh, Pauline," she called out, as soon as she had set foot on the threshold, "you don't know how thirsty I am!"

Pauline, knowing nothing of what Therese had just heard, replied: "Would you like to do without a drink to save a poor sinner?"

Now was the moment to practice what she had been told. "Yes, Pauline," she answered at once, though a big sigh betrayed how much it cost her. But Pauline thought her little girl had done enough by being so ready to make the "act," and after a few minutes brought her a cooling drink. Therese did know if she ought to take it, for fear of not saving sinner. But her "little mother" reassured her saying that besides the merit of her "act," she would have still more merit now by being obedient, and these two "merits" would perhaps save two sinners instead of one.

A printable file of this chapter  is available below.

IT was late in the evening when the travellers arrived, and the children were so tired that they were almost dropping asleep. As soon as supper was over, therefore, Marie and Pauline took their little sisters up to bed.

Alone with his brother and sister-in-law, Monsieur Martin began to discuss with them his plans for the future. The fortune which he had made in business at Alencon was sufficient to allow him to live henceforward on his income, and to devote himself entirely to the education of his children. He relied on the kindness and affection of Madame Guerin to guide his elder girls in their duties as "little mothers" and mistresses of the new home in Lisieux.

Early the next day our party set out for "Les Buissonnets." After crossing the public park, they were soon in the narrow lane leading to the house where Therese was to pass her happy sheltered childhood. The elder girls looked sadly at the home where they would never see their dearly-loved mother.

But Therese was delighted with everything.

The house itself was bright and sunny, and to add to its charms there was a large belvedere with carved woodwork and stained glass windows, commanding on all sides a  beautiful view over hills and meadows. In front of  the house was a flower-garden with lawns and trees, and behind, a big kitchen-garden. It all seemed wonderful to the imagination of a child of five.

They soon settled down in this their new home.  Marie spared no pains to make her father happy, while Pauline busied herself with the little ones confided to her care. This was a charge that seemed to have been left to her by her mother, who on her deathbed had taken Pauline's hand and kissed it reverently, as if to appoint her spiritual mother of her sisters.

Pauline took upon herself the entire care and education of Therese, who was still too young to go to school. Under so devoted a teacher, the child soon learned to read and write, and the first word she could read was "Heaven."

Every day, when lessons were over, the "little Queen" went up to the belvedere, the usual quarters of her father, whom she called her "King." She would climb on to his knee and proudly show him her marks, which were always good.

Sometimes she would find him in the garden, and take him for a walk, skipping along gaily at his side. If she left him for a moment, it was only to make up strange drinks from the bark of trees. When these "wines" turned out a pretty color she would bring them to her father in a doll's cup. He would pretend to drink the odd mixture, and declare it delicious.

Another favorite occupation of Therese was to make altars of moss in a hollow of the garden wall. When they were ready, her father had to come and look at them and go into raptures over their beauty.

To encourage her to work diligently at her lessons a celebration was held every year at "Les Buissonnets for  the distribution of prizes. Though Therese the only competitor, strict justice was observed, and she only obtained the rewards she had really deserved. A number of friends were invited to see acted by the children, the conservatory being hung with draperies for the occasion.

But before the play began, the "little Queen" made her entry on the stage, and her father, seated in the place of honor, solemnly presented her with her prizes.

This ceremony always suggested to the childish imagination of Therese the day of judgment, when only the wicked need have any fear, while those who all their lives have worked for God will be generously rewarded.

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture are available below.