"No, it doesn't," said Mary. "You see, Dorothy, I'm willing, and that makes it so much easier."
"Easier to sit up there and mope, instead of going to parties, or skating, or even church? And then in front of you, perhaps, an operation in which you may lose your foot—"
And as she said the words, Dorothy buried her face on Mary's lap and gave a sob.
Mary's little hand stroked her hair tenderly. "Yes—all that," she said, "and yet I love God's will better than my own, and am sure He will allow nothing that He will not give me strength to bear."
Still Dorothy sobbed, and Mary went on in the same tender, even tone, which had come to her because her heart was at rest in the heart and will of God.
"I'll tell you what comforts me, Dorothy, most of all. I've two texts that I live on just now; would you care to hear them?"
Dorothy nodded, and sat up, drying her eyes. "I've no business to depress you!" she exclaimed. "Only I am so sorry!"
"I know," answered Mary, "but now listen to my texts and get comforted. One is the down-hearted text, and the other is the triumphant one. Listen! This is the down-hearted text—I mean when Satan tries to make me down-hearted:—'What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee!'"
"And the triumphant one is this,—'I will trust, and not be afraid!' Which will you have, Dorothy?"
Dorothy smiled at her tone, and Mary said, "Will you take the comfort that Jesus wants to give you about me, and be sure He is doing His best for me? I'm at the triumphant text to-night, you see!"