"Venice! So should I," said Dolly in a changed tone. "Well, mother, we'll go down first to this cottage in the country—they say it's delightful there;—and then, if it does you good, you'll be well enough, and we will coax father to take us to Italy."
"I don't care about Italy. I only want to be quiet in Venice, where there are no carts or omnibusses. I don't believe this cottage will do me one bit of good."
"Mother, I guess it will. At any rate, I suppose we must try."
"I wish your father could have been contented at home, when he was well off. It's very unlucky he ever brought us here. I don't see what is to become of you, for my part."
Dolly suppressed a sigh at this point.
"You know what the Bible says, mother. 'All things shall work together for good, to them that love God.'"
"I don't want to hear that sort of talk, Dolly."
"Why not, mother?"
"It don't mean anything. I would rather have people show their religion in their lives, than hear them talk about it."
"But, mother, isn't there comfort in those words?"