One morning, when Margaret was beginning to suffer less, she said, earnestly:
"Now, aunty, I think I have taken as much of your time, to say the least of it, as the case required, and I want you to go on with your book. What a trial this long interruption must have been!"
"It has not been a trial, dear. You will understand why, one of these days. I used to chafe and fret when interrupted in favorite pursuits, but I have learned that my time all belongs to God, and just leave it in His hands. It is very sweet to use it for Him when He has anything for me to do, and pleasant to use it for myself when He hasn't. There's no knowing what I have learned through these weeks that I needed to learn, in order to have my book what He chooses it shall be. Perhaps your fractured ankle has a mission to some soul, which it will accomplish through my pen; who knows?"
"I think I shall write a book myself," said Margaret, demurely.
Mrs. Grey smiled interrogatively.
"It would be such fun years hence to read it over. Yes, I certainly will write it. Come, aunty, you bring your pen and paper and set the inkstand between us, and we'll both write. I am going to write down the nice things that have happened to me; the letters and presents I have had, and my journeys, and excursions, and all that. And I shall illustrate it with pen-and-ink sketches. It will be a bigger book than you ever wrote, if I live much longer, and you all go on being so good to me."
"I don't believe you can use ink; however, we'll see. That's a good idea of yours. I wish I had begun such a book at your age. It would be most entertaining reading at my time of life. Oh, what a volume of undeserved mercies."
"Well, I have a nice blank-book on hand which you shall have."
She went and hunted it up, collected her materials, and they both became absorbed in their work, until a little musical laugh from Margaret broke in upon the stillness.