Helen could not resist this remark.
Mrs. Dale looked at her.
"I have lost my faith in God, and yet—"
She moved across to her writing-desk, and placed a slip of paper in Helen's hand. It was Peggy's recipe.
"You may smile at it," she said; "but this has brought back such an overwhelming charge of memories that I dare not say there is no God. I believe it is the production of a small maid of yours. Was it her own idea?"
"Entirely," said Helen, looking at the paper, with a grave smile; "but there are great truths, Mrs. Dale, wrapped up in this small message."
"There are," responded Mrs. Dale; and then she talked of other matters.
"Peggy," said Helen to her sister afterwards, "is a real little home missionary. However queer her methods are, she has the two requisites for success—enthusiasm and perseverance."
"Yes," said Joyce, "but we engaged her to be our little servant; we don't want her to be a missionary. However, I will say she shows both enthusiasm and perseverance in our service; her scrubbing can be heard half a mile off!"
Spring slowly turned to summer, and when the fresh-cut hay lay about in the meadows a sad trouble came to Peggy.