A weary look crossed Olive's face.
'Shall I ever be strong enough to work again?'
'You are working now; nay, my child,' as Olive looked up with languid surprise, 'few of us are called upon to do a more difficult task than yours; to take up life when we would choose death, to bear patiently the discipline of suffering and inaction, to wait till He says "work."'
'Dear Aunt Milly, you always say such comforting things. I thought I was only doing nothing but give you trouble.'
'There you were wrong, Olive; every time you suppress an impatient sigh, every time you call up a smile to cheer us, you are advancing a step, gaining a momentary advantage over your old enemy; you know my favourite verses—
"Broadest streams from narrowest sources,
Noblest trees from meanest seeds,
Mighty ends from small beginnings,
From lowly promise lofty deeds.
"Acorns which the winds have scattered,
Future navies may provide;
Thoughts at midnight, whispered lowly,
Prove a people's future guide."
I am a firm believer in little efforts, Olive.'
Olive was silent for a few minutes, but she appeared thinking deeply; but when she spoke next it was in a calmer tone.
'After all, Aunt Milly, want of courage is my greatest fault.'