Her father observed it with sorrow and concern.
"Sit down here till I am ready to talk to you," he said, indicating a chair close at his side.
Lulu obeyed, sitting quietly there while he finished his paper.

Throwing it aside at length, he took her hand and drew her in between his knees, putting an arm about her waist.
"My little daughter," he said, in his usual kind tone, "I am afraid you care too much for dress and finery.

What I desire for you is that you may 'be clothed with humility,' and have 'the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is, in the sight of God, of great price.'" "I never can have that, papa, for it isn't a bit like me," she said, with a sort of despairing impatience and disgust at herself.
"No, that is too true; it is not like you as you are by nature--the evil nature inherited from me; but God is able to change that, to give you a clean heart and renew within you a right spirit.

Jesus is a Saviour from sin (He saves none in their sins), and He is able to save to the uttermost, able to take away the very last remains of the old corrupt nature with which we were born.
"Oh, my child, seek His help to fight against it and to overcome! It grieves me more than I can express to see you again showing an unlovely, wilful temper." "Oh, papa, don't be grieved," she said, throwing her arms round his neck and pressing her lips to his cheek.

"I will be good and wear whatever I'm told; look pleasant about it too, for indeed I do love you too well to want to grieve you and spoil your pleasure." "Ah, that is my own dear little girl," he answered, returning her caresses.
The sullen expression had vanished from her face and it wore its brightest look, yet it clouded again the next moment, but with sorrow, not anger, as she sighed, "Oh! if you were always with us, papa, I think I might grow good at last; but I need your help so much, and you are gone more than half the time." "Your heavenly Father is never gone, daughter, and will never turn a deaf ear to a cry for strength to resist temptation to sin.