"Oh, in heaven's name, how can you ask me such a thing? How can you worry
me so? How could you do anything of the kind in our house? Think of the
terrible din that a piano makes! And where would the money come from if
you could find the time? Oh, Dora, where did you get hold of that
unfortunate idea? I should think I had enough to worry me already, without
your asking me such a thing as this into the bargain."

Dora hastened to assure her aunt that she had no intention of asking for
any thing, and the storm blew over. But never again did she dare even to
speak of music, no matter how eagerly she had listened to the piano,
during her long sewing lessons.

Every evening after Dora had learned all her lessons for school, while her
aunt in utter silence knitted or nodded, the child climbed up to her
little attic room; and before she closed her tiny window, she leaned out
into the night to see whether the stars were shining, and looking down
upon her from the high heavens. Five there were always up there just above
her head; they stood close together and Dora looked at them so often and
so steadily, that she began to consider them as her own special
property--or rather as friends who came every night and twinkled down into
her heart, to tell her that she was not utterly alone. One night the idea
came to her that these bright stars were loving messengers, who brought
her kisses and caresses from her dear parents. And from these heavenly
messengers the lonely child gained nightly comfort when she climbed to her
little chamber in the roof, with her feeble candle for her only companion.
She sent her prayers up to heaven through the tiny window, and received
full assurance in return, that her Father in heaven saw her, and would not
forsake her. Her father had told her that God would always help those who
trusted him and prayed to him, and she had no fear.