A great fear and dread possessed her. Must it always be so? And at the great Day, must she be weighed in the balances and found wanting? Oh, if she could but change it all! But she had tried again and again. This trying was like the rest; her enthusiasm died away and she gave it up. Miss Lane said nothing—she was putting the unfinished articles into a large empty basket. At last Jennie broke the silence.
“Miss Lane, I am going; to try again. Will you help me? Please make rules for me. Please tell me what I am to do.”
“First, you must expect to do nothing without God’s help: for that you must ask: to ask it, you must rise earlier, so as to have the time. Never begin the day without prayer: your life, without that, is like a boat rudderless upon the broad ocean. Never do anything upon which you cannot ask God’s blessing. Finish what you undertake, no matter how great your disgust may be before it is ended. And do but one thing at a time.”
“I will try. Then I shall finish Alice’s stockings and burn all these things so as to begin anew.”
“No, Jennie, you must not burn them: you surely cannot meditate such a sinful waste.”
“But, Miss Lane,” she exclaimed, comprehending with a flash of dismay her teacher’s meaning, “you cannot expect me to finish all those things now. Why, I hate the sight of them. I could never untangle that silk, and the worsted is all to wind. I have another pair of slippers, too, down stairs—those that Tan tore: and I promised Dr. Sprague the drawing a year ago—I should be ashamed to give it to him now.”
“It is time you were telling the truth about it, Jennie. You promised—did you not?”
“There has been nothing to prevent your doing it, excepting your distaste for finishing your work, has there?”
“No.”