"Nanna," said Phebe one day, "do you remember telling me that a Christian is not perfected till death, that we have to be trained and disciplined? And do you remember what discipline I needed?"
"Yes, I remember it well. You see, I'm always thinking about it because I like to watch the process."
"I have been thinking God has ceased to do any training with me—could it be that He is disappointed with me?—that because I have not come up to what He expected, He has put me on one side."
"Why, dearie, what has put that into your head?"
"What discipline have I got now? Peace and joy and prosperity are with me in abundance."
"All God's training is not done by pain. Bless me, the flowers know better than that! The cold winds and rains make them bloom right enough, but the sunshine has a good share in the work as well. Instead of you having no training just now, the sunshine all round you is doing it as fast as it can. And if God sees you can stand the sunshine without getting puffed up, or careless, or proud—I know you will forgive an old woman's plain words—He perhaps has glorious plans of work for you in the future. He can discipline and train you by all this wealth He has given you."
"Trust you," replied Phebe, laughing, "for never giving me the ghost of a chance of being miserable. I never saw anybody like you for ruthlessly stripping away every shred of the blues!"
"Do you want to keep a few of the blue rags, then?"
"No, you know I do not."
"Dear heart," said Nanna tenderly, "there was a time when you had to search round for your bright bits: now you are surrounded with it, take in all you can get—rejoice and exult in it, and don't lose one bit simply because you have got so much."