anything that'll do, and if I can I'll let you know. If we
hadn't such a nether millstone to deal with, it would be easy
enough to work it somehow."

So they set forth homewards again.

"Cheer up, dear!" said the old gentleman, heartily, laying one
hand on his little granddaughter's lap; "it will be arranged
somehow. Don't you worry your little head with business. God
will take care of us."

"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl, looking up with an
instant sense of relief at these words; and then looking down
again immediately to burst into tears.




CHAPTER II.


Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touched it?
Ha' you mark'd but the fall o' the snow,
Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
BEN JONSON.


Where a ray of light can enter the future, a child's hope can
find a way — a way that nothing less airy and spiritual can