"I've made Aunt 'Melia come," Bet said. "I told her you wanted her, and here she is."
"I've got the camp-stool in the chair," Joy said. "Sit down, Aunt Amelia, and let us be comfortable and happy."
Mrs. Skinner shook her head.
"No, my dear, I can never be happy. I leave that to other people."
"Oh, yes, you can be happy!" little Miss Joy said.
"No, no; not with a broken heart!"
"God can mend broken hearts. Don't you know that, Aunt Amelia? 'He gives medicine to heal their sickness.'"
"Not when troubles are brought upon one's self by one's own folly and sin, my dear. No, no."
"I don't think that makes any difference," said little Miss Joy in her clear, musical voice. "He healeth those that are broken in heart; He giveth medicine to heal their sickness. He telleth the number of the stars: He calleth them all by their names. I do love that psalm, because it shows God cares for little things like me and my little troubles, and for great and mighty things like the stars. For, you know, I have my little troubles. I do long to run and skip as I used to do, and wait on Uncle Bobo and mother, when she is tired and the lodgers are rather tiresome, and poor grannie is cross, and I am inclined to grumble and be cross too."
"Never, never, my dear," said Mrs. Skinner.