"We must trust God." "For what? I don't see." "Trust him, that he will keep his promises. I do." "What promises?" "He has said, that none of them that trust in him shall be desolate." "But 'not desolate'! That is not enough," said. Rotha. "I want more than that. I want to be happy; and I want to be comfortable." "Are you not comfortable, my child?" "No, mother," Rotha said with a sob. "What do you want?" Mrs. Carpenter spoke with a gentle soft accent, which half soothed, half reproached Rotha, though she did not mean any reproach. Rotha, nevertheless went on. "I want nearly everything, mother! everything that we haven't got." "It would not make you happy, if you had it." "Why not? Why wouldn't it?" "Because nothing of that sort can. There is only one thing that makes people happy." "I know; you mean religion. But I am not religious. And if I _was_ happy, mother, I should want those other things too." "If you were happy--you would be happy," Mrs. Carpenter said with a slight smile. "That would not hinder my wanting other things. I should want, as I do now, nice dresses, and a nice house, and books, and not to have to cook and wash dishes, and to take a ride sometimes and a walk sometimes--not a walk to market--I want all that, mother." "I would give it you if I could, Rotha. If I had it and did not give it to you, you would know that I had some very good reason." "I might think you were mistaken," said Rotha. "We cannot think that of the only wise God," Mrs. Carpenter said with that same faint, sweet smile again; "so we must fall back upon the other alternative." Rotha was silenced. "We know that he loves us, dear; and 'they that trust in the Lord shall not want any good thing.' As soon as it would be good for us, if that time ever comes, we shall have it. As for me, if you were only one of those that trust in him, I should hardly have a wish left."