“Were you in danger, my pet?” asked McLeod.
“Not exactly in danger, except the danger of having to walk at night through the forest, and without snow-shoes.”
“Hm! not such a small danger that as you seem to think, Flo,” said McLeod gravely. “However, these gentlemen got you out of the scrape—well, go on.”
“Well, on we went, came to Sam Small’s hut, slept there, got two dog-sledges, slept at the hut of Jonas Bellew in Boulder Creek, whose door we were obliged to break open, for he wasn’t at home—and, here we are.”
“Well, my pet, here you are likely to remain for some time to come. It’s not exactly as fine a residence as you’ve been accustomed to, but there are many worse.”
“Worse,” exclaimed Flora, “there couldn’t be many better—in the circumstances. I regard it as a small palace. Dear father,” she added, “don’t let our reverses weigh so heavily on you. Think of your favourite saying, ‘It’s an ill wind that blows no good.’ Perhaps good may be in the wind somewhere for us.”
“Ay, and I’ll think of one of your favourite sayings too, Flo, ‘Every cloud has a silver lining.’”
“But I’ve got a better saying than that now, father,” said Flora, with sudden earnestness, “the saying that dear mother was so fond of quoting from the Bible before she died: ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ Oh, father, that word comforts me now, for I have gone to Jesus and have pleaded with Him His own promise that whatever we shall ask in His name God will give it to us.”
“Bless you, Flo,” said her father tenderly, “and what did you ask for,—success in our new enterprise?”
“No, I asked for guidance in every step of it, for that is certain to lead to success.”