Only a fortnight ago, and yet how much had happened since then! What
a revolution in our home-world! Dear father lying in his quiet grave;
ourselves penniless orphans, obliged to leave Combe Manor, and
indebted to our generous benefactor for the very roof that was to
cover us and the food that we were to eat.

Ah, well! I was only a schoolgirl, barely seventeen. No wonder I
shrank back a little appalled from the responsibilities that awaited
me. I was to be Uncle Geoff's housekeeper, his trusted right-hand and
referee. I was to manage that formidable Deborah, and the stolid,
broad-faced Martha; and there was mother so broken in health and
spirits, and Dot, and Jack, with her hoidenish ways and torn frocks,
and Allan miles away from me, and Carrie--well, I felt half afraid of
Carrie to-night; she seemed meditating great things when I wanted her
to compass daily duties. I hoped she would volunteer to go on with
Jack's lessons and help with the mending, and I wondered with more
forebodings what things she was planning for which I was to leave her
free.

All these things tired me, and I sat rather dismally in the
moonlight looking out at the closed white lilies and the swaying
branches of the limes, until a text suddenly flashed into my mind,
"As thy day, so shall thy strength be." I lit my candle and opened my
Bible, that I might read over the words for myself. Yes, there they
were shining before my eyes, like "apples of gold in pictures of
silver," refreshing and comforting my worn-out spirits. Strength
promised for the day, but not beforehand, supplies of heavenly manna,
not to be hoarded or put by; the daily measure, daily gathered.

An old verse of Bishop Ken's came to my mind. Very quaint and rich