Lucy smiled. She did not see then how exactly the child symbolized those who think they have faith in God, and yet when one of the swaddling bands of system or dogma to which they have been accustomed is removed, or even only slackened, immediately feel as if there were no God, as if the earth under their feet were a cloud, and the sky over them a color, and nothing to trust in anywhere. They rest in their swaddling bands, not in God. The loosening of these is God's gift to them that they may grow. But first they are much afraid. Still Mattie looked contemptuously on the flowers. Wandering along the cliff, they came to a patch that was full of daisies. Miriam's familiarity with the gorgeous productions of green-house and hot-house had not injured her capacity for enjoying these peasants of flowers. She rushed among them with a cry of pleasure, and began gathering them eagerly. Mattie stood by with a look of condescending contempt upon her pale face. "Wouldn't you like to gather some daisies too, Mattie?" suggested Lucy. "Where's the use?" said Mattie. "The poor things'll be withered in no time. It's almost a shame to gather them, I do think." "Well, you needn't gather them if you don't want to have them," returned Lucy. "But I wonder you don't like them, they are so pretty." "But they don't last. I don't like things that die. I had a little talk with Mr. Fuller about that." Now Mr. Fuller had told Lucy what the child had said, and this had resulted in a good deal of talk. Mr. Fuller was a great lover of Wordsworth, and the book Lucy was now reading, the one he had lent her, was Wordsworth's Poems. She had not found what she now answered, either in Wordsworth's poems or in Mr. Fuller's conversation, but it came from them both, mingling with her love to God, and her knowledge of the Saviour's words, with the question of the child to set her mind working with them all at once. She thought for a moment, and then said: "Listen, Mattie. You don't dislike to hear me talk, do you?" "No, indeed," answered Mattie. "You like the words I say to you, then?" "Yes, indeed," said Mattie, wondering what would come next. "But my words die as soon as they are out of my mouth." Mattie began to see a glimmering of something coming, and held her peace and listened. Lucy went on. "Well, the flowers are some of God's words, and they last longer than mine." "But I understand your words. I know what you want to say to me. And I don't know the meaning of _them_." "That's because you haven't looked at them long enough. You must suppose them words in God's book, and try to read them and understand them." "I will try," said Mattie, and walked soberly toward Miriam.