"I want to go to church so much, father," she said, as she saw he understood her.
"But, Nannie, I don't think David went to church when he couldn't walk."
"He might have been carried," said Nannie, driving back the tears that wanted to come.
"Perhaps he was," said her father; "and so might you be, if father thought it right."
"Would it hurt me, father?"
"I don't know that it would. It might, though; so I think you had better not try. You must be patient, and remember what I've told you, that God sends all these little trials. Do you understand me?"
"I think I do."
"I like to see my little daughter love God's house, but I like to see her bear it patiently when she can't go there."
"I will try," said Nannie, while she kept saying "No!" to the tears as fast as they came. Every little while, however, one wouldn't mind, and would jump over the edge and run down. But she kept on saying, "Be patient, be patient;" and at last the tears got tired of coming, and troubled her no more. She had pulled up an ugly weed called "Impatience" that morning.
Soon after, Jack came in with his empty basket.