"It's very kind of you, my dear," he said, "to give so much of your time to helping an old man."
"I'm afraid I don't give up half enough. I think we should give ourselves to the serious side of life at least for a little while every week, don't you? We are so apt to devote ourselves to frivolities."
"I'm very glad to hear you say that. Young people are none too serious nowadays; but I'm sure you're too strong a nature to be wholly frivolous."
"I'm afraid not, but I often do things I don't care for, to keep myself from thinking. My life hasn't been all a bed of roses, Mr. Lambert."
"You surprise me," he said, sitting down in the front pew to get a better view of their united arrangement of potted plants. "That's very pretty, my dear. Now come and sit by me, and tell me all about it, and if an old man's advice——"
"Oh, I do so want advice," she said. "You can't realise what the life I lead means to a girl—my parents are both dead, you know."
"Yes, poor child. I remember; Mrs. Roberts told me. How sad!"
"I've no settled home— I knock about. I try my best, I do indeed, Mr. Lambert; but with no one to advise me—no older woman than myself who really cares—it is at times very hard."
"But you've relatives—Mrs. Roberts."
"Yes, of course, they're very kind, and all that; but a young girl needs far more than what she could ask of a remote relative. She needs watchful care, constant protection. You've had a daughter, Mr. Lambert."