But Mabel laughed at the idea of treating the poor as though they were personal friends, on an equality with themselves. "You leave me to manage it," she said. "I shall be glad of this opportunity of making myself useful." When they reached the cottage they heard, to Isabel's disappointment, but Mabel's relief, that nurse herself was out—had gone to the town to make some necessary purchases, and would not be back for some time. "But walk in, young ladies," said the stranger courteously. "You must not go back until you have rested yourselves." And she led the way into a cosy little parlour and placed chairs for them near the fire. "I will read a chapter to you while we rest," said Mabel, drawing forth her Bible as she spoke. And without waiting for her hostess to assent or dissent to her proposal, she turned to the parable of the sower and read it. When she closed the book, and before she could begin her little commonplace comments upon what she had read, the old lady said rather abruptly: "I am afraid we none of us think as much as we ought to do about this seed, which is the very Word of God planted in our hearts." And then she reached her own well-worn Bible, and turned over the leaves to the first chapter of John, and read, "'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.' This was what the Lord Jesus Christ meant by the seed in the parable," she said. "It is the Spirit or Life of God, 'the true Light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world.' "You see in the parable the seed is the same, but the difference is in the soil, and so the life of God—the spiritual life in us—will grow and flourish, or dwindle and pine, as we remove the weeds of worldliness and selfishness, or suffer them to grow unchecked. This little flower of grace is a delicate plant, and the hot sun of pleasure, or fame, or applause will soon wither it, or the weeds of pride, and envy, and selfishness choke it, if these are allowed to grow unchecked." "Yes, but if we try to make our life a useful one?" said Mabel as soon as she could recover from her astonishment. "If the usefulness springs from the root of grace, then it is a beautiful flower. But I have heard of such things as artificial flowers—very pretty, very natural looking, but having no root—they are simply imitations. I am an old woman, my dear, and have been about the world a good deal, and I have known people who, as you say, have tried to make their lives useful, but never thought of pulling up the weeds of selfishness from their own hearts. In the world, they have been known as most useful people—Sunday-school teachers, perhaps—while at home their friends could tell you that they were peevish and exacting, or proud and overbearing, or envious and jealous.