"No. He has resolved to stay and see the war through," was the grave reply.
Kathie looked into the glowing fire. It was very brave and noble in him for he did not like military life under the auspices in which he was seeing it.
"There is a little more," Uncle Robert said.
The "little more" brought the tears to her eyes. She stooped and laid her head on Uncle Robert's shoulder, nestling her face in the corner by his curly beard.
"He thinks—it will be—all right with him," she whispered, tremulously, a little sob quivering in her voice.
"Living or dying," returned Uncle Robert, solemnly. "My darling, I am very grateful for your share in the work. It seems to me that Mr. Meredith is capable of something really grand if he can once be roused to a sense of the responsibility and preciousness of life. There is so much for every one to do."
"But it doesn't seem as if I did anything."
"No act is without some result, my dear child, when we think that it must all bear fruit, and that we shall see the result in the other country, whether it be brambles or leaves or fruit; and we cannot bear fruit except we abide in the Master."
It seemed to Kathie, child as she was, that she had a blessed glimpse of the light and the work, the interest and sympathy, the prayers and earnest endeavor, which were to go side by side with the Master's. A warm, vivifying glow sped through every pulse. Was this the love of God,—the grace which was promised to well-doing? She hardly dared believe, it was so solemnly sweet and comforting,—too good for her, she almost thought.
"You see, little one, that He puts work for us everywhere, that his love and presence is beside it always. We may wait a long while for the result, yet it is sure. And we need not be sparing of our seed; the heavenly storehouse is forever open to us. He is always more ready to give than we to receive."