"When she brought her mind back, as it were, from these thoughts, I asked her if she could bear two or three nails driven in somewhere. She looked a little surprised, but I produced Hugh's little hammer, and soon had put her text where she could see it without turning her poor head. Then I drew forth from the bottom of the parcel the unworn end of our old wool door-mat, and with her permission nailed it securely to the top of her wooden footstool, and when we had seen her with great satisfaction place her feet upon it again, we left her, while we retraced our steps homewards, the Christmas bells ringing in my ears all the way with these words borne upon them, 'My God shall supply all your need—all your need—all your need.'"
"Who thought of the piece of old mat for her stool?" asked Hugh.
"I think I did," said Agnes. "I was reading to her one day, when I noticed how thin her shoes were, and how comfortless the old box looked. But she never repines; though she has only that little miserable room, which she never leaves, she says not a word, but is always full of thanksgiving for her many mercies."
"I believe the less people have the more grateful they are," said Alice.
"I don't see that at all!" exclaimed Hugh. While Agnes said:
"Oh, no! that isn't it, Alice. But sometimes, when people lose all earthly possessions, they are brought to seek that great heavenly possession which makes up for every other loss. That's what it is."
"Then the humdrum people who are just comfortable don't get such a good chance as the poor ones, according to you, Agnes," Hugh observed.
She shook her head, smiling. "Sometimes they have to lose something they value very much before they can be brought to receive the great possession."
"What sort of thing?" asked Hugh quickly.
"I do not know," answered Agnes thoughtfully. "Each one of us values some one thing more than another; and if we love it better than Him, it will have to go."