"Look at poor little Ruffie here! I often marvel at his patience and cheerfulness. Doomed to be crippled and helpless all his life, and if he is spared to manhood, deprived of all the powers that make manhood desirable. How would you like to be stretched on your back, and know that you would have to lie there till you die?" Louise shuddered, then she put out her hand protestingly. "Be kind to me! Be a little sorry for me! I suppose I have an entirely selfish outlook, and you are disgusted with my grumbles. I am not one of those unselfish, uncomplaining heroines you talk about. I never could be. But if I was in different circumstances, I should be a much pleasanter person. I know I should. Happiness is like the sun amongst the flowers; it would make me open my heart to others, but I've had so little of it, and I want to be happy! I want to be happy!" Anstice was silent for a moment, then she said slowly: "That is the cry of all of us. We are made to be happy. We are meant to be happy even in this world of sorrow and sin. But we don't know what will give us real happiness. Outside prosperity—we'll call it happiness—is so fluctuating and fleeting. I think you'll live to see this come true in your experience, Louise. But I have preached enough to you. Now shall we have a row on the lake?" "I must be getting back. Uncle will think I have run away. Don't think me a selfish, ungrateful pig; don't give me up as hopeless because I don't want to turn religious! You've done me such a lot of good. It is heaven to sit here with you, and talk!" "My dear Louise—you see I'm calling you by your Christian name in a very familiar way—I don't intend to let go of you. I can tell you that! If you really must go, I will take you down to the other end of the lake, we will row there together. It will save you a good bit of walking. And I'm going to give you a big bunch of roses, if you can carry them. I want you to put them in your sitting-room. I am sure they will do you good. If you don't find the long walk too fatiguing, come over to me next Thursday, will you? And if you will get a little bit of ground ready in your garden, I can give you ever so many plants. We are weeding out our herbaceous borders. Will you start a little flower garden? You don't know how fond you may get of it!" For the rest of her visit, they only talked of pleasant things. Anstice lent her a book and she took away a lovely bunch of roses. They had a delicious row on the lake, and when Anstice returned after seeing her well on her way home, she did not feel altogether dissatisfied with the visit. She knew that fresh interests would be a great boon to the lonely girl. She was content to wait and pray for the deeper change, which she wanted to bring into her life. CHAPTER IX LOUISE'S DEPARTURE "DEAR ANSTICE,—