“What’s that you say, Master Grey?” asked Sam quickly.
“That Tiny Paul is better off now than he might have been had you or his father or mother brought him up,” said the farmer. “What is the eldest boy doing?”
“No good—no good, I fear. He is in prison,” growled Sam in his old tone.
“And the second?” said the farmer.
“An idle dog. He’s a great trouble to my poor daughter.”
“And if I were to ask you, ten or a dozen years hence, what your youngest grandchild was about, might you not have had to say the same of him?”
“That’s true,” said Sam, looking up. “I might—yes, I might.”
“Now God often takes to Himself those He loves; He loved Tiny Paul, so He took him.”
“Yes; I see God can take better care of him than I can.”
“Ay, sure, Sam, that He can and will, and maybe God had another reason for taking Tiny Paul.”