Magda did not at once reply. A recollection came up of sharp complaints from her father.
"I can't see that there is anything for me to do—worth doing!" she said at length. "Nor anything worth living for."
"Child!"—and he spoke in a moved tone. "Life is always worth living—in God! Everything is worth doing—in Christ our Lord."
"But if there really is nothing?" she insisted.
"If you have absolutely no direct work now, you must wait in patience, and train yourself for the future. You must educate your powers—make yourself ready for what may come by-and-by. Preparation for work is, in its way, as important as the work itself. The preparation in some cases lasts for years; the work itself lasts but a short time. That does not matter. All that matters is that we should be doing whatever God gives us to do, in simple obedience and love."
"And suppose one worked hard for years and years—trying to make ready—and nothing ever came of it?"
"Something will certainly come of it—in this life or in the next. No true work for God is ever thrown away."
"I don't see what I'm to do. It all seems so difficult." She sighed despondently.
"Don't be in too much of a hurry to see your way. Only make the best possible use of your days meanwhile. There is always something to be done for somebody. The smallest service may be 'true service while it lasts.'" Mr. Miles pulled out his watch. He knew that he had said enough. "Ah—I must be on the move. But come again soon. You will find my wife indoors."
He went with her; and as they met Mrs. Miles, she said—