“Oh, dear mamma,” said Annie, “I do so long to do some good! I cannot bear to live such a useless life. Every day, when I feel the goodness of God and his great love to me, I long to do something for him. And I think, mamma, that I have planned a way to do good without getting off my sofa.”
“You are always doing good, Annie. Do you suppose that your patience under suffering is not a lesson to us in our smaller trials? There are many ways in which you are a blessing to us all; so do not weary yourself with new schemes. If God had required active service from you, he would have given you health and strength.”
“But I can do something, mamma. Please to hear my plan. I want to tell you something more about Phelim’s sister. She has been Mrs. Green’s servant, and her business was to assist in the nursery. She would have done nicely, Phelim says, but for her violent temper. Last week one of the children was cross and provoking, and the girl got angry and pushed him down-stairs. He was much bruised; and, of course, she was dismissed at once.”
“I should hope so. But your plan, Annie?”
“The poor girl has no place, mamma, and, with such a dreadful temper, is not likely to get one soon. And they are very poor. I know that since Jessie left us, you are too closely confined here with me; and my plan is to have this poor girl to wait on me, and—”
“Why, Annie, what a wild project!” interrupted her mother. “You must not think of it. She would be throwing you out of the window, or beating you to a jelly, in her first fit of ill-temper.”
“Oh no, she won’t, mamma,” urged Annie. “She will not be so easily vexed here, and no one is ever angry with me. Please to try her.”
“Are you really in earnest, Annie?”
“Yes; and very anxious to be indulged in my strange plan.”
“Have you thought how awkward she will be in assisting you?”