"And yet she was obliged to thwart your own plans and wishes often, I presume. Did you rebel?" "O, no I was always obedient to my mother. I loved her so, I would not have grieved or displeased her for the world." "There it is, my dear!—the whole secret. When once we love God with all the heart, it is sweet to do or suffer his will." "But I never have thought of God in that way. He seems majestic and glorious, but I think I fear him more than I love him. I cannot realize that he loves me either." "It will help you greatly, my dear, to take the Bible and Concordance and go through the words 'Love' and 'Father;' then you may see and 'believe the love that God hath for us.' He has tried very hard—has written it plainly all through the Book to make us understand that he is truly our Father. Call it mother love if that makes it plainer to you: think that he feels toward you as your mother did; Father, as God uses it, stands for father and mother both. It is the tenderness of mother joined to the protecting care and greater strength of father." "I must go now, the carriage has come," Esther said, rising hastily, "but I shall never forget your talk. I am sure it will do me good. I came here to-day with the flowers because Dr. Foster preached about giving a cup of cold water for Christ's sake, to some of his children; and I couldn't think of anybody to carry one to but some of these old ladies; I didn't think I was going to have my reward so soon. It was so nice to find you; you seem like my own dear grandma who died when I was a little child. I am coming often to see you; may I?" And the sweet face smiled up into hers. "Yes, indeed, my dear, and I thank you with all my heart for coming. No cup of cold water could have refreshed me more than this visit, if I had been famishing for some,—and these roses!—" taking a long breath of them as she spoke,—"each one is a separate blessing." As the carriage rattled over the city streets in the dusk Esther's aunt and cousin, fresh from shopping, discussed laces and silks while she leaned back and thought of Mrs. Lyman, her heart thrilling with the new thought that God loved her as her mother loved her. At last her Cousin Sophy said:— "What are you dreaming about, Esther? Where have you been all this while?" Esther started as the cold, fault-finding tones broke in on her reverie and said evasively, "I went to the 'Old Lady's Home,' you know." "Been there all this time?—Impossible! Will you never be like other people?" Miss Sophy Ward had passed her first youth and was growing sharp and severe, especially toward girls who were guilty of being nineteen. She took it upon herself to keep strict watch over every thought, word and deed of her young cousin who had lived with them since the death of her mother. Esther dreaded the lecture that she knew was forthcoming, so she began eagerly to try to divert attention from herself.