"Trust what?" Rotha asked quickly.
"Trust God. He knows."
"Trust him for what?" Rotha insisted.
"For everything. Trust him that he will take care of you, if you are his child; and let no harm come to you; and do all things right for you, and in the best way."
"Mother, that is trusting a good deal."
"The Lord likes to have us trust him."
"But you are his child, and he has let harm come to you?"
"You think so, because you know nothing about it. No harm can come to his children."
"I don't know what you call harm, then," said Rotha half sullenly.
"Harm is what would hurt me. You know very well that pain does not always do that."