"Of how much God cares for everything He has made," she answered gravely; "I shall keep a look out for those pretty lilac butterflies when summer comes, if all's well."
Mr. Basset put back the last drawer into its place and locked the cabinet. That done, he sat down and began to talk of his nephew; he had heard from him, too.
"I was pleased with the tone of his letter, my dear," he remarked, "it was so cheerful. Yes, it was the letter of a brave man. I must not read it to you, for it was of a private nature, but I should like to tell you one thing he said which impressed me very much, and that was that we must remember that whatever happened to him it was all right. We must try to feel that."
Josephine nodded, but her eyes filled with tears. Mr. Basset put a kind arm around her, and kissed her affectionately.
"Your father must be very proud of his brave little daughter!" he said.
"I'm not half so brave as you think!" Josephine told him; "sometimes I'm so—so frightened for father. Not always, only sometimes. I can't help it. A sort of panic comes over me. I want to fight, the good fight of faith! It's seemed easy till lately, but now, oh, it's so difficult! And yet I know God is watching over father—that He loves him—oh, a hundred times better than I do, and knows what's best for him, but—but—oh, Uncle John, this wicked, terrible war! Why does God allow it?"
Mr. Basset shook his head. "That is a mystery which we cannot solve," he said; "perhaps it will be plain to us when we no longer see through a glass darkly, but in the clear light of the world to come. We cannot judge now what the effects of the war will be—"
He broke off suddenly as the door opened and May entered, her pretty face aglow with excitement.
"Oh, Josephine!" she cried, "here's news you'll be interested in! What do you think has happened? Mrs. Rumbelow has heard from her son! He's come back to England from Canada with the Canadian contingent, and now he's in training on Salisbury Plain!"
"How do you know?" asked Josephine. "Did you hear from Jane?"