"But what can I do? She hates me because I am so small and ugly. She
will never let me love her, and without that what can a poor little
thing like me do?"

"My child, there is no human being so weak or so humble that it is
incapable of doing good, of being happy, and of making others happy
also. The power of doing good does not rest so much in what we
possess, as in what we are. Gentle words, kind acts are more precious
than gold. These are the wealth of the poor; more precious than
worldly wealth, because it is never exhausted. The more you give,
the more you possess."

A strange beautiful light came into Mary's eyes, as she listened.

"Go on, father, say more."

She drew a deep breath.

"Then the good are never poor!"

"Never, my child."

"And never unhappy?"

"Never utterly miserable, as the wicked are--never without hope."

"Oh, father, tell me more; ask God to help me--He will listen to you."

He laid his pale hands upon her head, and as a flower folds itself
beneath the night shadow, Mary sunk to her knees. She clasped her