"Nothing about God's dealings," pursued Aunt Judy, "but that they are
sure to be good for us, even when we like them least, and cannot
understand them at all. We know so little what we ought really to
like and dislike, dear No. 6, that we often fret and cry as foolishly
as the two children did, who, while they were in mourning for their
mother, broke their hearts over the loss of a set of rabbits' tails."

No. 6 sprang up at the idea. She had never heard of those children
before. Who were they? Had Aunt Judy read of them in a book, or
were they real children? How could they have broken their hearts
about rabbits' tails? It must be a very curious story, and No. 6
begged to hear it.

Aunt Judy had, however, a little hesitation about the matter. There
was something sad about the story; and there was no exact teaching to
be got out of it, though certainly if it helped to shake No. 6's
faith in her own wisdom, a good effect would be produced by listening
to it. Also it was not a bad thing now and then to hear of other
people having to bear trials which have not fallen to our own lot.
It must surely have a tendency to soften the heart, and make us feel
more dependent upon the God who gives and takes away. On the whole,
therefore, she would tell the story, so she made No. 6 sit quietly
down again, and began as follows:-

"There were once upon a time two little motherless girls."

No. 6's excitement of expectation was hardly over, so she tightened
her hand over Aunt Judy's, and ejaculated:-

"Poor little things!"