“‘Ay, dear,—always.’
“‘The first thing, I suppose,’ said Sue, ‘is that we haven’t quite money enough.’
“‘We have just what God gives us,’ said the cobbler. ‘I’ll never complain of that.’
“‘Why you never complain of anything, father. But it isn’t pleasant.’
“‘No, dear,’ said the cobbler;—‘and yet if we had money enough, could we trust God as we do? It is a sweet thing to live at his hand directly; to feel that it is feeding us to-day, and to know that it will to-morrow; for, ‘was he ever a wilderness to Israel?’ No, dear; I don’t mean to say that poverty is not hard to bear sometimes; nor I don’t mean to say that I wouldn’t give you plenty of everything if I had it to give; but I do say that there is a sweet side even to this.’
“‘Father, our blue fish wouldn’t have tasted as good if we had always had plenty of them.’
“‘I suppose not,’ said the cobbler, with a little bit of a stifled sigh;—‘and maybe we shouldn’t know how to love each other quite so well, Sue.’
“‘O, yes we should!’ said Sue.
“‘I don’t know,’ said the cobbler. ‘I shouldn’t know what my little daughter can do, and bear, if she had not had a chance to shew me.’
“‘Why I don’t have much to bear, father,’ said Sue.