Dr. Richards had been studying the changes in the child’s face. It was like reading a book, but it had many variations. Her thoughts must have traveled far and wide. What were they?
“Are you very happy?” he asked.
“Happy?” she echoed, wonderingly. “Why it is a beautiful Sunday. One ought to be happy—here with you and watching all these lovely things.”
“Are Sundays happier than any other days?”
“Well—” slowly. “They ought to be. It seems as if it was the day of the Sun, and that’s always glad and merry.”
“But when it rains or is cloudy?”
“Oh, you know it is there, and maybe He is fighting away the clouds. And He draws up the water. I read that in a book—and when He gets enough He lets it fall down as He 126 did last night and that makes the world so fresh and sweet. And there are fifty-two Sundays when you ought not––”
“What?” watching the shadow in her eyes.
“Well, I think you ought not work very much. I suppose some people have to when you have meals to get and babies to see to. I go to Sunday school with Jack and I like it so much. I’ve learned ever so many of the songs. But the lessons puzzle me. They are about God—we had them in the Home, you know, and God seems so big and strange. Do you know all about him.”
“No, child, and no one, not even ministers can know all, so you need not worry about that. God has the whole world in His keeping. Don’t you like the week days?”