Eleanor took an enthusiastic interest in the mats until she found it was tedious work and made her back ache with bending over the looms.
“It seems so silly to waste time on this stuff when you really do not need them or want them for anything,” said she.
“We’re not weaving a doormat but working for an honour,” retorted May.
“But it is foolish—an empty honour,” laughed she.
“I never think anything foolish that creates a desire to do perfect work, or apply yourself and overcome impatience,” said Miss Miller.
“But where’s the honour come in?” insisted Eleanor.
“It is an honour always to follow the Bible’s injunction—‘Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.’”
“Oh, you’re talking of religion—this is different,” argued Eleanor, not to be silenced.
“Our Master felt that the two went together—honour and religion. If one does what is honourable and right in small things he can be depended upon for greater things, too.”
“Well, weaving grass mats won’t count,” scorned Eleanor, pushing at her badly woven mat impatiently.