"What makes you so bright, Tom?" asked his aunt wistfully one wintry day, as they sat over the fire together.
"Whenever I look at you, I say to myself, 'He careth for you,' auntie, and that does me good."
"But why, dear—I am very happy," she added. "You are all so loving, and I have such a much easier life than if I had to turn out on the world."
"Yes, 'He careth for you,'" said the boy, smiling. "You came and taught us to trust Him more than we ever did before, and now God lets me pass it back to you, so that you take courage to keep on!"
He smiled at her lovingly, and went to fetch his lesson books.
Tom read and re-read that letter from America, and could not make up his mind about it.
The letter said:
"You cannot think how you have comforted me about your Aunt Ruth! Tom! If you see any cause to tell her, or if you think it will add to her happiness, show her this letter. No one knows what it cost me to leave her without a word—but I seemed to have no right—at least, I thought so then. But sometimes I have thought—Tom, I am getting on nicely. Your text has been a great comfort, 'Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you.'"
"God has cared for me wonderfully, and if you think that she whom I love would be happier to know there is some one working for her, then—then tell her, Tom, or show her this letter, and ask her if I may write the next to her."
Tom had gone up to fetch his books. As he stood in the cold, reading over these words, he felt perplexed. It seemed such a great responsibility.
Then he thought of his text, and knelt down for an instant. "Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you."