ambitions, and sympathized so heartily and cheerfully with him that
Tom began to think it was worth while coming to Thankful Rest, if for
nothing else than this pleasant hour at the parsonage. Meanwhile
Carrie had opened the piano, and sang low and softly one or two
hymns; and when she looked round, wondering why Lucy had moved from
her side, she saw her on the sofa with her face hidden. She rose, and
sitting down beside her, put her arm about her, and whispered
gently,--

"My poor child, what is it?"

"Mamma, Miss Goldthwaite," sobbed Lucy. "She used always to sing to
us on Sunday evenings just so, and it makes me feel dreadful to think
she never will any more."

"Yes, Lucy, I understand," said Carrie; and the very sound of her
voice soothed the child's troubled heart. "But you know who has
promised to comfort the mourning heart if we will but ask Him? Our
God is 'the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort.'"

A quick smile broke through Lucy's tears. "If it were not for that,
Miss Goldthwaite," she said simply, "I should have died when mamma
did."

"And just think, dear," went on the sweet voice, "of the glad time
coming when we shall all meet, please God, in a happier world than
this. We shall not remember these sad hours then, shall we, Lucy? I
know, my dear, how lonely and sad and strange you feel here now; but
God can make us happy anywhere."