'In a world where sorrow
Ever will be known,
Where are found the needy,
And the sad and lone;
How much joy and comfort
You can all bestow,
If you scatter sunshine
Everywhere you go.'
to the tune of 'Go tell Aunt Rhody,' it wouldn't cheer me up very much. "Would it you?"
"No," laughed Mrs. Campbell, who chanced to be her confidante on this particular occasion, "I don't think it would; but on the other hand, meaningless words would not cheer anyone, either, no matter how pretty the tune. Is that not so?"
"Yes, I s'pose it is. I guess it takes both together to do the work. This week our verse is:
'Can I help another
By some word or deed?
Can I scatter blessings
O'er a soul's sore need?
If I can, then let me
Now, within today,
Help the one who needs me
On a little way.'
"The next time we tell if we remembered the verse and worked it."
"Worked it?" Mrs. Campbell was not yet accustomed to Peace's queer speeches, and often did not understand her meaning.
"Yes. Miss Edith says just helping Gussie carry the dishes away nights, or buttoning Marie's dress when she is cross and in a hurry, or getting grandpa's slippers ready for him when he comes home from the University all cold and tired, or holding that squirmy yarn for you when you knit those ugly shawls, or talking nice to Jud when he makes me mad, is being a missionary. She says it is the little, everyday things that count; for some of us may never get a chance to do anything real big and splendid, and if we wait all our lives for such a time to come along, we will be just wasting our talents. But all of us have hundreds of little things each day to do, and if we do them cheerfully and sweetly, we are being sunshine missionaries and are making others happier all the time. She says Abr'am Lincoln's greatest wish was to have it said of him when he died that he had always tried to pull up a thistle and plant a flower wherever he got a chance. Thistles mean hard feelings and mean acts, and the flowers are kind words and deeds."
"Miss Edith has found the key to true happiness," murmured Mrs. Campbell, glancing out of the window at a tall, slender, gray-eyed young lady hurrying down the street, surrounded by a bevy of bright-faced, adoring boys and girls.
"Yes, she's another Saint Elspeth, isn't she? How nice it is to have her here as long as I can't have my dear Mrs. Strong! And do you know, grandma, she and Mrs. Strong were chums when they went to college? Isn't that queer?"