"Oh," sighed Bella, realising for a moment how great a loss it would be, "I don't believe I could ever bear it."
Aunt Maggie smiled sadly. "You could, dear. You will have far harder trials than that to bear, I am afraid, or you will be more than fortunate," and she added after a moment's silence, "We can make our garden wherever we are, and plant our seeds, and raise our flowers."
"Not in service, Aunt Maggie?" cried Bella, incredulously, "they wouldn't give me a bit of ground, would they, anywhere I went?"
Mrs. Langley smiled. "They might in some places where the servant makes it her home, and the mistress tries to make it a real home to her, they let her have a little bit of ground to call her own. But I was thinking, dear, of another kind of garden,—the garden of life, where we can sow good seed or bad, and raise flowers, where we and others have to tread. Flowers of patience and honesty, good-temper, willingness, and cheerfulness. They are very precious flowers to most people, for few get many such along the way they have to tread; and a sunny smile or a cheery word, or a kind act will often lighten the whole of a dull, hard day. Don't ever forget to grow those flowers, my dear, or to shed sunshine wherever God may order you to dwell."
"Does God order that, Aunt Maggie? Does He tell people where they must go? and shall I have to do as He tells me, and go where He sends me?"
"Yes, dear, and you can trust Him. He will only send you where you are needed, and where it is best for you to be."
Bella went home in a very, very thoughtful mood that night. "I wonder where God is going to send me, and what work He has for me to do?" The idea filled her mind until, as she reached home, the thought suddenly rushed into her head, "I wonder what father will say, when he hears what Aunt Maggie wants to talk to him about!"
What her father did say when first the plan was mooted, was a downright "No! I can keep my children as long as I can work, and Bella can find enough to do at home."
"Yes, I know," answered Aunt Maggie gently, when he had repeated this more than once, and each time more emphatically. "And what about the time when you can't work, William? or, if anything was to happen to you? Do you think it is right or fair to bring up children without any knowledge that'll earn them a decent, respectable living?"
William Hender had no answer ready, and sat trying in vain to find one.