“Well, I cannot explain it,” said Phoebe. “Yes, it means giving happiness; but it means a great deal more. I can feel it, but I cannot put it in words.”
“I don’t understand you the least bit!”
“Will you talk awhile with Mrs Dolly Jennings, and see if she can explain it to you? I do not think any one can, in words; but I guess she would come nearer to it than I could.”
“I like Mrs Dolly,” said Gatty, thoughtfully; “she is very kind.”
“Very,” assented Phoebe.
“I think I should not mind talking to her,” said Gatty. “We will walk down there to-morrow, if we can get leave.”
“And now, had we not better go to sleep?” suggested Phoebe.
“Well, we can try,” sighed Gatty. “But, Phoebe, ’tis no good telling me to pray, because I have done it. I said over every collect in the Prayer-book—ten a day; and the very morning after I had finished them, that horrid man came, and Mother made—I had to go down and sit half an hour listening to him. Praying does no good.”
“I am not sure that you have tried it,” said Phoebe.
“Didn’t I tell you, this minute, I said every—”