"Well, perhaps not," I said. "How close it is to-night, Evelyn! Would you mind me taking a little walk on the verandah outside the window—to get cool before bed-time?"
"Oh, not at all," she said, smiling; "go, May, dear, it will do you good."
So I left my work and went outside the window.
It was a quiet, starlight night, and the stars in the East are wonderfully brilliant and beautiful. I walked up and down for some time, not exactly thinking, not exactly praying, but with my heart lifted upwards, above this changing world, to the unchanging Friend above. And an answer came to that upward appeal. It came in the recollection of some words I had heard a few days before:
"'Next time a trouble comes which you cannot understand, and which seems so very hard to bear, just say to yourself it is God's chisel at work upon me—you will find it such a help.'"
And it was a help to me; the very help that I needed—God's chisel at work upon me, then I must not complain; I must not murmur; I must not even wonder; I must just trust and wait.
Looking up at the bright starry sky, I said, in the words of a favourite verse:
"He doeth all things well,
We say it now with tears;
But we shall sing it with those we love,
Through bright eternal years."
