"You've had a great affliction."
No response, for the torn hearts could scarce endure the rude touch; her tone was so cold and hard.
"I hope you're resigned," she went on. "You know we ought to be; especially considering that we deserve all our troubles and trials."
"I trust we are," said Mrs. Chetwood, "we can rejoice in her happiness while we weep for ourselves."
"Don't you think you made an idol of that child? I think you did, and that that is the reason why she was taken; for God won't allow idols."
"We loved her very dearly," sobbed the bereaved mother, "but I do not think we made an idol of her, or ever indulged her to her hurt."
"The heart is deceitful," observed the schoolma'am with emphasis, "and putting on mourning, and shedding so many tears, doesn't look like submission and resignation. I don't see how a Christian can act so."
"Wait till you are bereaved," replied the mother, sobs almost choking her utterance.
"And remember how Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, and that he never reproved the Jews for putting on sackcloth and ashes when mourning for their dead," said Mildred, adding, in her uncontrollable indignation, "I think you might be at better work, Miss Drybread, than wrenching the hearts of these bereaved ones whom Jesus loves, and in all whose afflictions He is afflicted."