“I really don’t see how we are to meet the additional expense.”
“Don’t you think it will come all right, mother?” Cherry asked.
“It may,” I said.
“I think it will,” she murmured.
After a pause, she added,—“Perhaps Uncle Churton will soon write.”
“And if he does not?” I asked.
“If not—won’t there be something else instead, mother? Isn’t there sure to be?”
I did so want a little comfort of some sort. I found myself catching at Cherry’s words, as if for help. And I put down my work, and said, lifting my eyes to her dear face,—“What do you mean, Cherry?”
Cherry’s work went down also. She drew her chair nearer, and took both my hands, kissing them lovingly.
“Mother, you know it all,” she said in a low voice. “You know all a great deal better than I do. It is only—only—that the Bible says we are not to take too much thought, because 'all these things’ will be added to us. Doesn’t that mean that we should be wrong to fret and worry?”