"Where did the carpet-men get the wool to make it from?" asked mother.
"From farmers," answered Helen.
"And where did the farmers get it?"
"From sheep and lambs' backs," said the little girl.
"And who clothed the lambs in dresses good enough for us? for your dress, I see, is made of nothing but lambs' wool. Where did the lambs get such good stuff?"
"God gave it to them, I suppose," said the little girl. "It is you that gives me bread, mother," said she quickly.
"But," said her mother, "the flour we got from the shop, and the shopkeeper bought it from the miller, and the miller took the wheat from the farmer, and the farmer had it from the ground, and the ground grew it all itself."
"No," cried Helen suddenly, "God grew it. The sun and the rain, the wind and the air, are His, and He sent them to the corn-field. The earth is His too. And so God is at the bottom of everything, isn't He, mother?"
"Yes," said mother; "God is the Origin of every good and perfect gift which we enjoy."
The little girl looked serious. She looked thinking. "Then, mamma," she said at last, "I can't make a prayer long enough to thank God for everything."