“I s’pose poor God’s busy,” said little Doris. “Goodness! we’re busy enough without havin’ the world to look after.”
“Yes,” put in Eva, eagerly. “Just think of all the big world He has to look after. I wonder He can manage it at all. There’s all the country and all Sydney, and all other towns, and all other parts of the world. Do you remember, when we were trying to learn geography, all the places we had to think of? To think He has to look after them all! I just don’t know how He manages at all.”
But Eileen’s shapely legs still swung vigorously to and fro, in silent protest.
“I wish we were all big men, and could go out and work and make money, and get real rich, and buy lovely homes, and—and—all that. And I wish Mamma would never have to work again, and that Frank could go away and get rich and—and—oh! anything different to this.”
They all looked up the long, white, dusty road that stood out clear and distinct in the gathering twilight, and for a time were very quiet, with rebellion in their hearts.
At last Mollie, with a bright light of resolve shining in her eyes, turned to them.
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking? I don’t know if I ought to tell you——”
“Oh, do, Mollie—do!” They all crowded round her. “Whatever is it?”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking over for three whole days.”
“Three whole days, Mollie? How ever did you manage not to tell us?”