"Just as those hives were put in the sunniest place, so they were also put in a sheltered place. 'A Sun and Shield.' God is near us for both; and when the cold winds of trouble, or sorrow, or temptation blow, we must hide in Him, for He is our Shield." "Oh, I see!" said Tom. "Now, Auntie, what else did the bees say?" "Heaps of things! But I did not learn all, nor should I have time to tell you, either." "I thought that they taught me that there was great good in being busy—" Rose nodded approvingly. "They worked steadily and patiently; they went about their tasks with a will, and they gathered—what?" Aunt Ruth turned round smiling on the four faces. "Poison?" she asked. "Unkindness, quarrelling, selfishness, self-will? No, no! What did they gather as they hovered over the pretty flowers?" "Sweetness!" said Jean, gently. "Yes—that is a lovely word for it!" exclaimed Aunt Ruth. "They gathered 'sweetness,' enough and to spare. They brought it home for those who did not go out; they stored it up for the rainy and dark days, when the flowers might not be there. God had been their Sun and Shield, and they had done their part in gathering the sweetness which He had provided, so that others might be blessed and cheered and comforted." "Oh, Aunt Ruth, I shall always think of that when there is honey on the table!" said Oswald. "Do, it is worth learning," she answered. "What did you do all day, Auntie?" "I sat out in the sunshine and sketched most of the time, or watched the bees and thought of what God could be to me if I would let Him." "Then you did this drawing?" said Tom. "Yes, and a good many more. See, I have written underneath this one a few lines I often say to myself from 'A Song in the day of the East Wind,' written nearly three hundred years ago by Tersteegen; and it often reminds me of those sunny days:" "'My heart in joy upleapeth; Grief cannot linger there; She singeth high in glory, Amid the sunshine fair. The sun that shines upon me Is Jesus and His love, And the fountain of my singing Is deep in heaven above!'" CHAPTER XVIII. BECAUSE. "I WANT to love God and do what pleases Him," sighed Norman to himself; "but I make such a poor hand at it. Here I'm at school all day, and my head is cram full of lessons, and when I get to bed I'm so tired, and so dissatisfied with myself, that I feel quite disheartened." He was on his way to spend the week-end with one of his school-fellows, who lived among the mountains in Cumberland. He had left the station some hours ago, and his friend's house was still a long way off, and the evening shadows were falling over the land. He knew his way pretty well, and was not anxious about his destination, so that he had plenty of time to think. He was an earnest boy, and really wished to do right, but somehow he had got into rather a muddle lately, and did not know how to extricate himself.