y cloud must come up, and shut the sunshine out,
and darken all her happiness," she told herself dramatically.

"Audrey, dear. Don't look so unhappy, so--so disappointed. We will not
anticipate. No one knows what the future may bring. It is seldom exactly
what we hope, or dread; and if we just go on trustfully day by day, taking
all the happiness God sends us, and ready bravely to face the clouds.
We know that He will make the sunshine show through. He wants His
children to be happy, not miserable."

"I--don't know," said Audrey, doubtingly. "It seems that if ever I want a
thing very much it is taken away, or I am not allowed----"

"Audrey, darling, do not say such things. Do not let yourself ever think
it. Do you honestly believe that the great God above demeans Himself and
His Majesty and Might to annoy one of His children? That He plans to
torment you? My dear, dear child, don't get into that bitter, wicked way
of talking. It is so wrong--so insulting to your Heavenly Father.
It is so ruining to your own character, and your happiness. The mistake
that we make, Audrey, is that we want to choose our own way, and follow
it--not His. That we think we can see better than He what is for the
best, and what our future should be.

"Now, let no imaginary cloud in the future overshadow the sunshine of
to-day. Enjoy the happiness that is sent to you, and, if the call to duty
elsewhere comes, obey it as all good soldiers of Christ should."

Audrey was on her knees by her mother's side, her face buried in her lap.
"Oh, mother, mother!" she cried remorsefully, "I am not a good soldier--I
am a coward. I never want to obey--unless--it pleases me to."

"You did not want to come here when the summons came, did you, dear?"

Audrey shook her head. "No, mummy," she admitted reluctantly. "When I
came I counted the days until I could go back again."

"But you are happy here? You are glad now?"

"Oh, yes, yes," cried poor Audrey.

"You would not be happy, though, if you stayed on here, refusing to go to
granny. You would be in the place you want to be, you would be near your
friends, and be doing the things you want to do; but you would not be
happy. You would enjoy nothing."

"Is one only happy if one does one's duty?" queried Audrey faintly.

"Yes, little soldier. That is why you have been so happy here since----"

"Since Irene showed me what my duty was," said Audrey softly. She rose to
her feet, kissed