Winifred did not say anything at first, so Violet turned from the window to look at her. “Violet,” she said presently; “I think if God didn’t care about little things, He couldn’t care about big ones either.” “Why not?” “Because it is little things that make big ones. I don’t think anything is really so very little.” “I don’t see,” said Violet, knitting her brow. Winifred pondered awhile. “Mamma once told me a story about it, when I was ill; I don’t think I understood then--I mean I didn’t think what it meant; but I have been thinking about it lately--I understand better now.” “A story!” repeated Violet, with more animation in her tone. “I like listening to stories. Tell me the story, please, Winnie.” “I will soon, when it gets dark. I want you to look in that box there in the corner, and see if you like the things in it.” Violet went eagerly to work, lifting the lid, and carefully examining each of the parcels disclosed to view. As she did so, rapturous exclamations of delight escaped her. Winifred had taken great pains with her selection of toys and books and pretty trifles. Such a box as Violet was now examining would have filled any child with delight. Poor little Violet, who had always suffered from a lack of childish treasures, could not say enough, nor admire enough; she was in a perfect ecstasy. “Oh, Winnie, how lovely! What perfectly sweet things! Oh, I never saw such a lot of lovely toys! That doll is just a darling! Oh! whoever did send you such a splendid box?” “Nobody sent it to me,” answered Winifred, with a little smile. “I am going to send it to a little girl--a friend of mine.” Violet was replacing the things in the box with careful, gentle fingers. She gave a little sigh as she wrapped up the beautiful doll in its paper, and gave it one little kiss before she hid its pretty face. Winifred heard both the sigh and the kiss. “How pleased the little girl will be!” said Violet, as she closed the box-lid lingeringly. “I hope she will. I don’t think she has a great many toys; and she is fond of dolls and puzzles and fairy tales.” “Like me,” Violet was just going to say; but she checked herself, and said instead, “Does she? How pleased she will be!” “I hope she will.” “Of course she will; she must be. Do I know her?” “Yes.” “Do you like her? Is she a nice little girl?” “I think so.” “What is her name?” “Her name is Violet.” Violet gave such a jump that Winifred could not help laughing. “Yes, Vi dear, the box is for you if you will have it, and you are to take it home with you to-night. You see, I’m getting too old now to care for dolls and toys, and then--and then--Well, I thought perhaps you would like them, and I should like you to have them, because I have been fond of them, and I know you will take care of them. And so the box is yours now.”