“‘Still, father, you’d like to have me go?’
“‘Yes, I would,’ said the cobbler. ‘Maybe I shall never be sorry, by and by, that I couldn’t.’
“‘And then, father,’ said Sue, ‘you can’t get work enough.’
“‘Yes!’ said the cobbler. ‘If I could do that, it would be all smooth. But God could give it to me if it pleased him, and if it don’t please him there must be some reason; can’t we trust him and wait?’
“Sue looked up again, not so brightly as once before; meekly, and rather tearfully.
“‘And then I must leave you to-morrow,’ said her father, kissing her brow;—‘that seems just now the worst of all.’
“‘Maybe you’ll come back again, father,’ said Sue.
“‘I am afraid I shall not—till this trial is over.’
“‘It’s a disagreeable business; isn’t it, father?’
“‘Very disagreeable—as ugly as can be to look at.’