"Let me in, Lucy," said Rosa's sweet voice entreatingly; "I could not take the small-pox if you had it."
Lucy gladly unfastened the door. Rosa took the trembling girl in her lap. For a few moments Lucy sobbed violently, and not a word was spoken; at length Rosa said, tenderly, "Dear Lucy, there is no danger of what you dread so much. Here, let me look at those little arms: there is the scar where you wore vaccinated when you were a baby, that you might never take the small-pox. Your kind father took good care that his little Lucy should not have her smooth face all pitted."
"Can't I have it?" asked Lucy, the tears still in her eyes.
"No! certainly not!" was the reply.
"But, dearest," continued Rosa, "you may be exposed to other diseases quite as dangerous. I wish you could learn to trust the Heavenly Father, who loves you more dearly even than our own papa; then you would not be afraid of anything. Shall I tell you what I heard uncle Gillette saying to one of the little girls at school, who was afraid of lightning."
"Oh! do," said Lucy; "I am so frightened when it thunders."
Lucy nestled closer in her sister's lap, and Rosa began.
"There was once a mighty king who was so terrible in war that all his enemies were afraid of him; the very sound of his name made them tremble. His arm was so strong that the horse and its rider would sink under one blow of his battle-axe; and when he struck with his sharp sword, his enemies fell dead at his feet. This mighty king had a little fair-haired daughter, who watched him as he prepared for the battle. She saw him put on his helmet, and laughed as the plumes nodded above his brow. She saw the stately battle-axe brought forth; she saw him take his keen sword in his hand; he tried its edge, then waved it about his head in the sunlight. She laughed as it glanced sparkling through the air; and even while it was upheld she ran towards her father to take a parting kiss. Why was not the little child afraid of the mighty king with the fierce weapons? Because he was her father; she knew that he loved her, loved her as his own life. She knew that those dangerous weapons would never be used against her unless to save her from worse peril. Do you understand what uncle Gillette meant by this story?"
"Not exactly," said Lucy; "won't you tell me?"
"He meant," said Rosa, "that God is like that mighty king. Sickness, lightning, danger, trial, death, are all His weapons; but we need not fear them if we are truly His children. When the sharp lightning flashes in the sky, we can look calmly at its beauty, for it is in our Father's hand. Sickness may be around us, but our Father can keep us safe. Death may come, but it will only be to send us to our Father's arms."