Nobody

"What limit, Mrs. Barclay?"

"Do you put none? I was not long ago speaking with a friend, such a manof parts and powers as was mentioned just now; a man who thus far inhis life has done nothing but for his own cultivation and amusement. Iwas urging upon him to do something with himself; but I did not tellhim what. It did not occur to me to set him about righting ail thewrongs of the world."

"Is he a Christian?"

"I am afraid you would not say so."

"Then he could not. One must love other people, to live for them."

"Love all sorts?" said Mrs. Barclay.

"You cannot work for them unless you do."

"Then it is hopeless! – unless one is born with an exceptional mind."

"O no," said Lois, smiling, "not hopeless. The love of Christ bringsthe love of all that he loves."

There was a glow and a sparkle, and a tenderness too, in the girl'sface, which made Mrs. Barclay look at her in a somewhat puzzledadmiration. She did not understand Lois's words, and she saw that herface was a commentary upon them; therefore also unintelligible; but itwas strangely pure and fair. "You would do for Philip, I do believe,"she thought, "if he could get you; but he will never get you." Aloudshe said nothing. By and by Lois returned to the book she had broughtin with her.

"Here are some words which I cannot read; they are not English. Whatare they?"

Mrs. Barclay read: "Le bon goût, les ris, l'aimable liberté. That is

French."

"What does it mean?"

"Good taste, laughter, and charming liberty. You do not know French?"

"O no," said Lois, with a sort of breath of longing. "French words comein quite often here, and I am always so curious to know what they mean."

"Very well, why not learn? I will teach you."

"O, Mrs. Barclay!" —

"It will give me the greatest pleasure. And it is very easy."

"O, I do not care about that," said Lois; "but I would be so glad toknow a little more than I do."

"You seem to me to have thought a good deal more than most girls ofyour age; and thought is better than knowledge."

"Ah, but one needs knowledge in order to think justly."

"An excellent remark! which – if you will for give me – I was making tomyself a few minutes ago."

"A few minutes ago? About what I said? O, but there I have knowledge," said Lois, smiling.

"You are sure of that?"

"Yes," said Lois, gravely now. "The Bible cannot be mistaken, Mrs.

Barclay."

"But your application of it?"

"How can that be mistaken? The words are plain."

"Pardon me. I was only venturing to think that you could have seenlittle, here in Shampuashuh, of the miseries of the world, and so knowlittle of the difficulty of getting rid of them, or of ministering tothem effectually."

"Not much," Lois agreed. "Yet I have seen so much done by peoplewithout means – I thought, those who have means might do more."

"What have you seen? Do tell me. Here I am ignorant; except in so faras I know what some large societies accomplish, and fail to accomplish."

"I have not seen much," Lois repeated. "But I know one person, afarmer's wife, no better off than a great many people here, who hasbrought up and educated a dozen girls who were friendless and poor."

"A dozen girls!" Mrs. Barclay echoed.

"I think there have been thirteen. She had no children of her own; shewas comfortably well off; and she took these girls, one after another, sometimes two or three together; and taught them and trained them, andfed and clothed them, and sent them to school; and kept them with heruntil one by one they married off. They all turned out well."

"I am dumb!" said Mrs. Barclay. "Giving money is one thing; I canunderstand that; but taking strangers' children into one's house andhome life – and a dozen strangers' children!"

"I know another woman, not so well off, who does her own work, as mostdo here; who goes to nurse any one she hears of that is sick and cannotafford to get help. She will sit up all night taking care of somebody, and then at break of the morning go home to make her own fire and gether own family's breakfast."

"But that is superb!" cried Mrs. Barclay.

"And my father," Lois went on, with a lowered voice, – "he was not verywell off, but he used to keep a certain little sum for lending; to lendto anybody that might be in great need; and generally, as soon as oneperson paid it back another person was in want of it."

"Was it always paid back?"

"Always; except, I think, at two times. Once the man died before hecould repay it. The other time it was lent to a woman, a widow; and shemarried again, and between the man and the woman my father never couldget his money. But it was made up to him another way. He lost nothing."

"You have been in a different school from mine, Lois," said Mrs.

Barclay. "I am filled with admiration."

"You see," Lois went on, "I thought, if with no money or opportunity tospeak of, one can do so much, what might be done if one had the powerand the will too?"

"But in my small experience it is by no means the rule, that money lentis honestly paid back again."

"Ah," said Lois, with an irradiating smile, "but this money was lent tothe Lord; I suppose that makes the difference."

"And are you bound to think well of no man but one who lives after thisexalted fashion? How will you ever get married, Lois?"

"I should not like to be married to this Duke of York the book tellsof; nor to the writer of the book," Lois said, smiling.

"That Duke of York was brother to the King of England."

"The King was worse yet! He was not even respectable."