“I am sure it can, if you will try. It is hard work to be fighting continually, to be on your guard against surprises, and sometimes to have your best efforts misunderstood, yet it seems to me a grand thing to gain a victory over one’s self.”
“You make it so;” he replied in a half doubtful tone.
“I wish you could be good friends with papa. He is so much wiser, and can explain the puzzles. When you came to know him well you would like him, you couldn’t help it.”
“Sometime—when I want such a friend;” he answered a trifle coldly.
The voices sounded on the walk just then, and in a few moments they came up. We had no special talk after that.
Mamma went over to Mrs. Fairlie’s the next day and met Miss Churchill there. Kate had been in violent hysterics all night. They appeared so utterly helpless. What should they do about black? There wasn’t any thing decent in Wachusett! And could Mrs. Fairlie find a long widow’s veil any where? There would not be time to send to the city.
“I am quite sure that Mrs. Silverthorne has one. Hers was very beautiful and she never wore it but a little; and a plain bonnet will do.”
“Thank you, Miss Churchill. How kind you are. But I cannot understand why this grief should come upon me.”
“God’s ways are not as our ways;” said mamma.
“But Mr. Fairlie was needed so much. I don’t know how I can live without him!”