“No, Margaret; you will have all you can do to wait on your mother, and,” he added, “I am afraid you cannot even go to school here at home,—for a time, at least. I am sorry, but I don’t see any other way out just now.” Margaret felt very much like bursting into tears again, but a glance at her father’s worn face changed her feelings. “Never mind, father, I’ll do all I can, and be as good as I can.” And she wound her arms around her father’s neck and kissed him. If she only could have known how much that kiss comforted her father. He went back into the darkened room with a lightened heart and a feeling that there must be something in religion, for it had changed Margaret wonderfully. Margaret snatched the first hour that came to her to write a letter to Aunt Cornelia, telling her how impossible it was for her to come to her, and how very sorry she was, and soon there came a long, sympathetic, helpful answer, and with it a little book bound in green and silver. “To help you when you feel discouraged,” the good auntie wrote. On the first page Margaret opened, her eyes met these words: “God’s will is like a cliff of stone, My will is like the sea. Each murmuring thought is only thrown Tenderly back to me. God’s will and mine are one this day, And ever more shall be, And there’s a calm in life’s tossed bay, And the waves sleep quietly.” And they sang a little tune in her heart as she thought of all she must bear that long winter. THE FIRST LOAD. IT was a warm, sunny Sunday morning, and consequently Robbie Ellsworth was allowed to go to church. This was quite a luxury to him, because he had but recently recovered from the measles, and his mother was rather afraid to have him go. The notices were all given out, at least so the people thought, when the minister announced that there would be a meeting of the congregation the next day, to raise money for a new church. That building, they saw, was altogether too small, and he did hope they would get a new one started very soon, as a lot was donated in a fine location. Then came the sermon. It was about little things. Robbie listened attentively, as the minister told how many great things had been started and helped by little boys and girls, and by people with little money or talent. At the dinner table Robbie’s father remarked, “How anxious Dr. Sullivan is for a new church! But he won’t get it—not very soon, anyway. The people don’t care enough about it, though I’m sure they need one badly.” “Dear me!” thought Robbie to himself, “I do wish Dr. Sullivan could get the new church. I’m sure he ought to have it if he wants it.” “He wants a brick one,” Mr. Ellsworth continued, “but in my opinion a frame building would do this time. Brick costs too much.” “I wish he could have a brick church,” thought Robbie. “It would be so much nicer.”