"Your metaphors are mixed," Madame commented. "Concerts and circuses, and herds, and precipices and door-mats. I feel as though you had presented me with a jig-saw puzzle."
"So I have. Is my life anything more than that? I don't even know that all the pieces are there. If they would only print the picture on the cover of the box, or tell us how many pieces there are, and give us more than one or two at a time, and eternity to solve it in, we'd stand some chance, perhaps."
"More mixed metaphors," Madame said, rolling up the mended stockings.
A maid came into the dining-room and began to set the table for luncheon. Edith rose from her chair and came to Madame. The dark hollows under her eyes were evident now and all the youth was gone from her face and figure.
"Well," she said, in a low tone, "what am I to do?"
It was some little time before Madame answered. "I do not know. These modern times are too confused for me. The old way would have been to wait, to do the best one could, and trust God to make it right in His own good time."
Invited to Stay
Edith shook her head. "I've waited and I've done the best I could, and I've tried to trust."
"No one can solve a problem for another, but, I think, when it's time to act, one knows what to do and the way is clearly opened for one to do it. Don't you feel better for having come here and talked to me?"
"Yes, indeed," said the young woman, gratefully. "So much was right—I'm sure of that. The train had scarcely started before I felt more at peace than I had for years."