"The very last Sabbath I was in church," said she to Doctor Wheeler, "Mr. Lewis said in his sermon, that even our afflictions had a blessing wrapped up in them. But I do not believe there is one inside this trouble. I can't conceive of any good that can possibly come out of it all!"
"Well, I don't know," replied Doctor Wheeler, "I should never have conceived of anything like that statue, yet it was inside the marble all the time, and plainly discerned by the eye of the sculptor. There are things in the spiritual world which we cannot conceive until they are revealed to us."
Poor Mrs. Hamlin shook her head doubtfully. She was very sure no good could grow out of this trial. Doctor Wheeler was a sweet-voiced little woman who looked upon the bright side of things and whom the children loved; they were very sorry for their little friend across the street who had the fever and whose father insisted upon sending for that gruff old Doctor Smith, who never had a smile for children.
"Your children have good constitutions and you have good nurses, I see no reason why they should not pull through easily," said Doctor Wheeler when Mr. Hamlin asked her opinion as to the prospects of the recovery of his little folks. "But what about that oldest boy of yours? Does he not have an Easter vacation?"
"Yes; and I suppose he ought not to come home?"
"Most certainly not! It will not be safe for several weeks; he must be kept away from this vicinity, though I hope the disease will not spread. You should send word for him to remain at the school through the vacation."
It was a very sober face indeed that presented itself at Doctor Brown's study door, a day or two after this conversation took place.
Doctor Brown was the principal of Howland Hall School for boys, and was the right man in the right place.
"What is it, Fred?" he asked kindly. "Come in and let me hear about it."
"It is this," replied Fred Hamlin, handing the Doctor his father's letter.