“Yes, my own lilies, there by the well. They came and grew just for me.”
Mrs. Evans gave a glance toward the well, then hastened to set the potato dish on the dinner table.
“Of all things! And how she has wanted to see lilies grow! The blessed child is watched over and done for as her father and I can’t do. I declare,” in a shame-faced way, all to herself, “when such things happen I wish I was a Christian.”
“Mother, mother,” called the happy voice again; “I want Joe to see my lilies too.”
“Yes, Deary,” promised her mother from within the shed.
X. THE LAST APPLE.
“God loves not only a cheerful giver, but a cheerful
worker as well.”
—Fletcher Reade.