There was a pause. Then, emboldened by the darkness and the tenderness of the conversation, Jean said softly:
"I did so want something the other day, and I prayed for it; I daresay you'll think it nonsense, but I thought my tennis shoes were too shabby to go to that party in. But God did not send them, and I did not think I ought to ask mother for them—"
"Well?" said Aunt Ruth gently, pressing her arm. "What did you do?"
"When I found mother said nothing about them, I felt bad for a little while; then I prayed again, and asked Jesus not to let me mind so much—"
"And then?" asked Aunt Ruth softly.
"Then—well, I forgot all about it in the end, and had a very nice afternoon."
"That is just the way I find the Lord Jesus does help," exclaimed Aunt Ruth. "To the old woman who is hungry, He sends bread and all she wants, and to the little girl who is worried about her shoes, He sends the best thing for her in His wisdom and love—an acquiescence in His provision, and then forgetfulness of what she thought would spoil her day!"
They turned indoors now, and Jean with tear-filled eyes ran up to her bedroom, and knelt down for one instant.
"Dear Lord Jesus," she whispered, "I know you know best; help me to trust you always!"