“Yes,” she said, too satisfied to say another word.
“Aunt Affy’s Bible is full of marks and dates,” said Judith, “as if she were writing her new Bible in her old one.”
“Now I’ll tell you how I found somebody. I wanted somebody to give to, as you do. I felt full of good things to give. The village was more full of young people then; now the boys go to the city, or away off somewhere, then they stayed and married village girls. There were people enough, but I did not know how to find the one willing to take something from me. So I prayed about it: my giving, and the somebody. The first thing I learned when I began to live in the Bible was to pray about everything as Bible folks did—I wanted to do all the right things they did, and shape my life as near to God as some of them did.”
Aunt Affy never talked as naturally as when talking to girls; she felt that step by step she had been over their ground. As Rody said, Affy had never grown up. A woman apart from the world, she lived a wide life; every day her clear vision swept from childhood to old womanhood.
“Before the answer came I read in the Old Testament (for all these things happened for our sakes, the New Testament tells us, throwing light on the old stories), three verses in the first chapter of Judges. How I studied it. And how much for myself I found in it—and for you. Joshua was dead; the children of Israel had no human counsellor, so ‘they asked the Lord.’ They knew he would speak to them as plainly as Joshua had. They had work to do, as you and I have; God’s own planned work. They asked who should go up first to the work; the Lord said: Judah. That was plain enough. As plain as he says to you: ‘Marion, do this.’”
“How does he say it to me?”
“In two ways. First by giving you something to give. Then giving you the longing to find somebody, to give to.”
“Yes,” said Marion, in a full tone.
“With the permission he gave a promise.”
“I like a promise to work on; I feel so sure,” said Marion, brightly.