"Yes, my dear, I do; but sometimes we're foolish and think we know better than He does what is good for us, and we complain because He denies us something upon which we have set our hearts, and we put our will against His, and wonder because we are unsatisfied and unhappy; and then, maybe, He shows us why what He denied us was not for us, and we find He knew best. It saves a lot of fretting and worrying if one can only learn to trust in God." "Yes," the little girl agreed thoughtfully, recalling that evening in the orchard when the apple trees had been in bloom, and Mr. Bailey had talked to her in a similar fashion with "God knows best" for his text—words which to him were the philosophy of life, the expression of his faith in the perfect wisdom and goodness of God. "Yes," she repeated, "but it is very difficult—often—isn't it, father?" Mr. Willis nodded, his eyes still fixed on the sky, where the sun had now disappeared from view. Mr. Bailey pointed to the mist arising in the valley, and suggested the advisability of moving homewards. "The fog is from the sea." he said, "and is evidently coming in with the tide." "But the tide does not flow so far up the river as Wreyford, does it?" Mr. Willis asked, in surprise. "No, but it is felt within a few miles of here," Mr. Bailey replied. "I remember we used to say at Haresdown House, when the wind was blowing in a certain direction, that we could smell the sea." "The air is certainly always beautifully fresh and invigorating," Mr. Willis said. "Well, I am loath to move yet, but I suppose it would be wiser to do so." "Oh yes, father!" Angel cried eagerly. "You know the doctor said you must take care of yourself, and not run the risk of catching cold by being out of doors too late." They passed through the churchyard, and out by the lych-gate into the road, Angel with her arm linked in her father's. "I wish Gerald had been with us this evening," the latter remarked, "I believe he would have enjoyed the walk. I wonder where he has gone." "I don't know," Angel answered, "I expect he is with Reginald Hope, he spends most of his spare time with him." "Young Hope is older than Gerald," Mr. Willis said reflectively, "so it is rather strange they should be such close friends. I suppose they have tastes in common. I see very little of Gerald nowadays. I hope you don't help him with his lessons now, Angel?" "Oh no!" she responded promptly; "he learns them quite by himself." "That's well. You have enough to do to attend to your own. By the way, I am afraid Gerald is growing extravagant; he spends more money than he ought." "Why do you give it to him, John?" Mr. Bailey inquired abruptly, whilst Angel started and grew red. "I thought he had a regular weekly allowance?" "He has, but he always exceeds it." "I don't think he should be allowed to do that," Mr. Bailey remarked gravely, "he should be taught to keep within his means. I suppose you allow him as much as you consider he ought to have?"