"Ah, mother!" he said, "I see another way of gettin' to bear fruit; and that is to spread your roots deep in the soil as the great Gardener has got ready for us; I see that now, and I'll remember it." She bade Meg good-bye, and went up-stairs again. "Cherry, child," she began, coming close to the bed, "give grannie a kiss, and let's tell the Lord all about it." Poor Cherry broke into sobs, as she raised her face to meet that of her friend. "Child, there are many things to comfort you. He'll not be unhappy, my dear, even if he is blind. People will be kind to him, and he'll not miss it as much as you fear. But, whether or not, the best thing we can do is to come to the bottom at once. The Lord knows, and the Lord _loves_. Cherry, He loves Dickie more than you and Meg do, and that's saying a great deal." Then she knelt down, and taking Cherry's hand in hers, she prayed that they might all be able to trust Him who loved them, both when He sent cloud and when He sent sunshine. And then Cherry, yielding herself to submit to the cloud, suddenly remembered the flash of sunshine which had been sent her that day, and cheered up and took courage. When Mrs. Seymour rose, she put up her face once more. "Oh, grannie!--may I call you grannie?--how good you are to me. Indeed, I will try to be a good girl to you and mother-Meg." "I'm sure you will, child." "And I'll not fret about Dickie anymore. I felt so sorry, so--angry--but I've asked Jesus to forgive me. Good night, grannie dear." So Mrs. Seymour, though she only kissed the little girl in silence, had her bit of comfort too that evening. "Grannie," she thought; "I believe the child will be a true grandchild to me in time, and cheer up my old age when I can't so well help myself." Early the next morning Cherry was up betimes. She dressed herself as neatly as her poor little mended clothes would allow, and, without being asked, proceeded to light Mrs. Seymour's fire before she went out. She had often watched the thrifty woman take two or three pieces of coal, which she placed along the back of her stove, so as to form an arch for her sticks from the front bar. Then she would lay eight or ten sticks evenly from back to front across this, and eight or ten more from side to side, putting her paper lightly under the arch, and her cinders lightly over it. "There, my dear," the old woman would say, "if you lay it like that, and your sticks are dry, you never need fear that if you turn your back your fire will be out. Those cinders will burn up hot before you have washed your hands." All this Cherry remembered, and followed as implicitly as she could. When she had done she stood spell-bound, watching the effect. Mrs. Seymour, roused by the crackling of the sticks, opened her eyes, and startled her by calling out-- "Halloa! my dear, are you up already, and the fire lighted too?" "Yes," said Cherry, coming forward; "I thought as you'd be glad to have it done, grannie."