"I think the difference between us is this," said Phebe, taking Mrs. Marchant's bony hand and gently stroking it: "I have put my life entirely into God's hands, and knowing He rules over everything, I can well afford to take things restfully." "Then it is your religion that makes the difference?" "Yes, if you like to put it that way." "And would it make the same difference to me?" "Of course it would." "Well, I shall never forget the sight of your face when that tea went over. That sight was worth all the sermons I ever heard!" "Wouldn't Bessie be glad if she knew! I'm not a bit sorry she spilt the tea, now. It would be worth the spoiling of all my dresses if it makes you want--_Him!_"--the last word very softly. Her eyes were on the silver star, but the secret of the star was too sacred to speak of. "But," added Phebe, "you must not give me one bit of praise for keeping calm; I should have been as mad as anybody,--_but for Him_." "And do you think of Him as always with you?" "Sometimes I forget, and it is then that things go wrong." That evening Phebe found Bessie busily engaged in unpicking the skirt of the unfortunate dress. "I'll buy stuff to match it," exclaimed Bessie, "if I have to walk all the way to Paris!" "Well, my dear, you cannot do that, because of the English Channel, but I want you to thank God you spilt that tea." "Thank God I spilt that tea! What do you mean?" And then Phebe told her story. "Ah, it was not the tea, it was the blessed peace in your dear face that did it! It's just like your dear loving ways to want to give me a share in it! I tell you, mother is quite correct, I am the most exasperating girl that ever was! But"--and she looked up with a tender little smile--"I've caught a little bit of your secret to-day. As you stood up there with the tea all trickling down your dress, I fancied I saw Jesus just behind you! It was that which kept me from answering mother back." "That was just splendid, Bessie, I am proud of you!" "What, in spite of this!" holding up the stained breadth. "Yes, in spite of that and a dozen like it! What is that worth compared with my Bessie? And Nanna would say just the same." CHAPTER XXI PARTNERS! One December evening, after the opening of Sunshine Hall, Janie was telling little Jack wonderful stories about what people did at Christmas. "Nearly always when people go away for a long time, they come back at Christmas, and bring such lots of nice things with them." "My daddy's gone away," said the child, "mummy said so." "Yes, I know he has," said the slow-witted Janie. "Will he come back at Kiss-mus?" "Perhaps he will." "And will he bring Jacky nice things?" "Of course he will, when he comes." That expectation quite took root in the little brain, and when "Kiss-mus" morning came, his first words were "Has my daddy come? I want my daddy!"