With her Bible in her hand, and a hearty prayer in her heart, the faithful old woman accompanied Margaret, as she had often done before, to the little corner, where the poor young mother wept and meditated, recalling every broken lisping word, so dear to her, and losing herself in fond remembrance of her lost darling. "My bairn," said Jean, when the fresh flowers had been laid down, and Margaret stood like a frail shadow in her long black robes, "have you ever thought how much money you have now in your hands to spend?" "Oh! do not speak of it here," said Margaret, shocked and distressed. "Why should I not speak of it here?" said Jean, stoutly; "it is here that I want to show you that you should do something with it." "I shall never claim it, never spend it!" exclaimed Margaret, twining her thin white fingers round the little marble cross close to her. "But you must do both," said Jean, emphatically. "You must claim the money, and spend the money. You must spend it, my dear, for the glory of God, and to give help." "How? Tell me how can I?" "You never can, if you do not look further than to a few feet of green turf, and allow nothing else to fill your mind. Look round you, my bairn; see where others suffer. You mourn most because you think that if help had come your child might have lived." "It might," murmured Margaret, in a suffocated voice. "And, if you think that, there are hundreds and thousands of children who die because they cannot get the help you might give them, having the means." "What do you mean, Jean?" and Margaret was startled into momentary forgetfulness. "Oh, my bairn! you have but to walk in the streets of the Great Babylon and see the poor little things; but go out of the streets; go into the byways; leave the highways alone and see for yourself. When I lost my way the day I took a letter from you to the bank I saw a sight that set my heart aching; and, as I saw all the filth and misery, I took comfort to myself, and said, 'My young lady is rich, and she will do something for these little ones.'" "But anything I could do would be such a drop in the ocean." "And is the ocean not made up of drops? We can all do but little--but must we not see we do that little?" "How can I begin?" "I am a poor ignorant body, but I would go to some doctor and say--'I do not want this money, but I want to help children, for the sake of a little child I loved and lost myself." Margaret's tears were falling, but they were not tears of bitterness. Jean had touched a right chord. With the possibility of doing something, an incentive for action given, came a glow of warmer feeling for humanity. The selfishness of her sorrow grew less, and, as she once again knelt in prayer beside the flower-covered grave, she did not pray for herself only, for that meeting she longed for, but she prayed also for others, and rose up filled with a sincere hope that she might be a comfort and help to them in the future.