Those days which followed were days of great opportunity to Ester, if
she had but known how to use them. Sadie's sad, softened heart,
into which grief had entered, might have been turned by a few kind,
skillful words, from thoughts of Florence to Florence's Savior. Ester
_did_ try; she was kinder, more gentle with the young sister than
was her wont to be; and once, when Sadie was lingering fondly over
memories of her friend, she said, in an awkward, blundering way,
something about Florence having been prepared to die, and hoping that
Sadie would follow her example. Sadie looked surprised, but answered,
gravely:

"I never expect to be like Florence. She was perfect, or, at least,
I'm sure I could never see any thing about her that wasn't perfection.
You know, Ester, she never did any thing wrong."

And Ester, unused to it, and confused with her own attempt, kept
silence, and let poor Sadie rest upon the thought that it was
Florence's goodness which made her ready to die, instead of the blood
of Jesus.

So the time passed; the grass grew green over Florence's grave, and
Sadie missed her indeed. Yet the serious thoughts grew daily fainter,
and Ester's golden opportunity for leading her to Christ was lost.




CHAPTER IV.