But Christie’s little daughter did it for her. Ruth had been standing near regarding the “pretty lady,” with as much wonder and admiration as if she thought her a fairy princess, who might vanish before she got a good look at her. Divining with a child’s quick instinct that the princess was in trouble, Ruth flew into the porch, caught up her latest and dearest treasure, and presented it as a sure consolation, with such sweet good-will, that Bella could not refuse, although it was only a fuzzy caterpillar in a little box. “I give it to you because it is my nicest one and just ready to spin up. Do you like pussy-pillars, and know how they do it?” asked Ruth, emboldened by the kiss she got in return for her offering. “Tell me all about it, darling,” and Bella could not help smiling, as the child fixed her great eyes upon her, and told her little story with such earnestness, that she was breathless by the time she ended. “At first they are only grubs you know, and stay down in the earth; then they are like this, nice and downy and humpy, when they walk; and when it’s time they spin up and go to sleep. It’s all dark in their little beds, and they don’t know what may happen to ’em; but they are not afraid ’cause God takes care of ’em. So they wait and don’t fret, and when it’s right for ’em they come out splendid butterflies, all beautiful and shining like your gown. They are happy then, and fly away to eat honey, and live in the air, and never be creeping worms any more.” “That’s a pretty lesson for rne,” said Bella softly, “I accept and thank you for it, little teacher; I’ll try to be a patient ‘pussy-pillar’ though it is dark, and I don’t know what may happen to me; and I’ll wait hopefully till it’s time to float away a happy butterfly.” “Go and get the friend some flowers, the gayest and sweetest you can find, Pansy,” said Christie, and, as the child ran off, she added to her friend: “Now we must think of something pleasant for you to do. It may take a little time, but I know we shall find your niche if we give our minds to it.” “That’s one reason why I came. I heard some friends of mine talking about you yesterday, and they seemed to think you were equal to any thing in the way of good works. Charity is the usual refuge for people like me, so I wish to try it. I don’t mind doing or seeing sad or disagreeable things, if it only fills up my life and helps me to forget.” “You will help more by giving of your abundance to those who know how to dispense it wisely, than by trying to do it yourself, my dear. I never advise pretty creatures like you to tuck up their silk gowns and go down into the sloughs with alms for the poor, who don’t like it any better than you do, and so much pity and money are wasted in sentimental charity.” “Then what shall I do?” “If you choose you can find plenty of work in your own class; for, if you will allow me to say it, they need help quite as much as the paupers, though in a very different way.”