"And that roof," said Alice, "she begged Mr. Marshman when the cottage was building that the roof might be high and pointed; she said her eyes were tired with the low roofs of this country, and if he would have it made so it would be a great relief to them." The odd roof Ellen thought was pretty. But they now reached the door, protected with a deep porch. Alice entered and knocked at the other door. They were bade to come in. A woman was there stepping briskly back and forth before a large spinning-wheel. She half turned her head to see who the comers were, then stopped her wheel instantly, and came to meet them with open arms. "Miss Alice! dear Miss Alice, how glad I am to see you." "And I you, dear Mrs. Vawse," said Alice, kissing her. "Here's another friend you must welcome for my sake--little Ellen Montgomery." "I am very glad to see Miss Ellen," said the old woman, kissing her also; and Ellen did not shrink from the kiss, so pleasant were the lips that tendered it; so kind and frank the smile, so winning the eye; so agreeable the whole air of the person. She turned from Ellen again to Miss Alice. "It's a long while that I have not seen you, dear--not since you went to Mrs. Marshman's. And what a day you have chosen to come at last!" "I can't help that," said Alice, pulling off her bonnet, "I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted to see you dolefully, Mrs. Vawse." "Why, my dear? what's the matter? I have wanted to see _you_, but not dolefully." "That's the very thing, Mrs. Vawse; I wanted to see you to get a lesson of quiet contentment." "I never thought you wanted such a lesson, Miss Alice. What's the matter?" "I can't get over John's going away." Her lip trembled and her eye was swimming as she said so. The old woman passed her hands over the gentle head and kissed her brow. "So I thought--so I felt, when my mistress died; and my husband; and my sons, one after the other. But now I think I can say with Paul, 'I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content.' I think so; maybe that I deceive myself; but they are all gone, and I am certain that I am content now." "Then surely I ought to be," said Alice. "It is not till one looses one's hold of other things and looks to Jesus alone that one finds how much He can do. 'There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother;' but I never knew all that meant till I had no other friends to lean upon; nay, I should not say _no_ other friends; but my dearest were taken away. You have _your_ dearest still, Miss Alice." "Two of them," said Alice faintly; "and hardly that now." "I have not one," said the old woman, "I have not one; but my home is in heaven, and my Saviour is there preparing a place for me. I know it--I am sure of it--and I can wait a little while, and rejoice all the while I am waiting. Dearest Miss Alice--'none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate;' don't you believe that?"