"I made a list of them, Uncle Eden," said Maggie, foisting a crumpled bit of paper out of her pocket. "Uncle Eden, Ditto read to us some stories which you didn't hear,--it was just before you came,--about poor people who gave the only pennies they had to pay for sending missionaries, and went without their Sunday lunch to have a penny to give; and Flora said she thought it was wrong; and we couldn't decide how much it was right to do." "It is a delicate question." "Well, how much _ought_ one, Uncle Eden?" "You do not want to go without your lunch?" "No, sir. Ought I, Uncle Eden?" "My dear, the Lord's rule is, 'Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give. What you _want_ to give, that is what the Lord likes to receive." "Don't He like to receive anything but what we like to give?" "He says, 'The Lord loveth a cheerful giver.'" There was a pause. "But, Mr. Murray," said Flora, "isn't there such a thing as a duty of giving?" "There is such a thing." "That is what we want to know. What is it? What is the duty, I mean?" "What does the Bible say it is, you mean?" "Yes, sir, certainly." "I am afraid you will think the rule a sweeping one. The Lord said, 'This is my commandment, that ye love one another as I have loved you.'" Another pause. "But we were talking of _giving_, Mr. Murray." "Love will give where it is needful." "But will nothing but love give?" "Not to the Lord." "To what, then?" said Flora hastily. "To custom--to public opinion--to entreaty--to conscience--to fear--to kindness of heart." "And isn't that right?" "It is not giving to the Lord." "Well, Mr. Murray, take it so; how much ought one to give, as you say, to the Lord?" "All." "And be a beggar!" said Flora quickly. "No; only the Lord's steward." "That is exactly what I thought Mr. Murray would say," said Meredith. "Then it comes back to the first question, Mr. Murray. Suppose I am a steward, how much must I give away out of my hand?" "If you are a good steward, your question will be different. It will rather run thus--'What does my Master want me to do with this money?' and if you are a loving servant, naturally the things which are dear to your Master's heart will be dear to yours." "You are speaking in generals, Mr. Murray," said Flora frettedly; "come to details, and then I shall know. What objects are dear to His heart?" "Don't you know that, Miss Flora?" "No, I don't think I do. Please to answer, Mr. Murray, what are the objects, as you say, dear to His heart?" "All the people He died for." Flora paused again. "I can't reach all those people," she said softly. "No. Do good to all those who come within your reach." "What sort of good?" "Every sort they need," said Mr. Murray smiling. "Do you think it is wrong to wear diamonds, Mr. Murray?" "Certainly not,--if you think the money will serve the Lord best in that way, and if your love to Him can express itself best so."