"The ravens!" answered the child. "Don't you remember God sending them to feed Elijah, and now He has sent them to feed us—only it does not say that they brought Elijah any grapes."
"I almost forget the story," said her father. "Tell us about it, Bess."
"It isn't a story, father. It's in God's book."
And then in her childish way, Bessie went on to relate that touching episode in the life of the prophet Elijah, when he dwelt by the little brook Cherith that is before Jordan, and God commanded the ravens, and they brought him bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening, and he drank of the brook.
After which, she went on to tell of the poor widow of Zarephath (only she could not recollect the name), who had nothing save a little meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse, and was gathering two sticks in order that she might go and dress it for herself and her son, that they might eat it and die. And when Elijah bade her make him first a little cake, and fear not, for the Lord would not suffer the meal to waste, neither the cruse of oil to fail, she went and did according to his word, and she, and he, and her house did eat many days, and the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord, which He had spoken by Elijah.
"Bessie is right," said her father, when she had finished. "I do believe that it must have been the ravens. Oh, wife, it seemed hard for you to be able to trust God this morning. It will be easier next time."
"I think it will," replied Mrs. Reardon, softly. "At any rate, I am sure that it ought."
[CHAPTER XV.]
THE WOLF AT THE DOOR.
AN aged minister of Christ told the writer that he always prayed, before leaving home, to be guided in the right way.