s, that we could have lived at peace the ones with the others."

"Then which counted you to be rid of, Mistress Rose--the childre of God
or the childre of the devil?. So long as both be in the world, I reckon
there'll not be o'er much peace," bluntly replied Underhill.

"Mind you what my dear father was used to say," asked Mr
Tremayne,--"`Afore the kingdom must come the King'? Ah, dear friends,
we have all too little of Christ. `We shall be satisfied,' and we shall
be of one mind in all things, only when we wake up `after His
likeness.'"

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Clare Avery and Eunice Underhill struck up a warm friendship. Eunice
[name and dates true, character imaginary] was one of the few women who
keep "the dew of their youth," and in freshness, innocence, and
ignorance of this evil world, she was younger than many girls not half
her age. Her simplicity put Clare at ease, while her experience of life
awoke respect. Clare seized her opportunity one day, while taking a
long walk with Eunice, to obtain the opinion of the latter on the point
which still interested her, and compare it with that of Mrs Tremayne.
Why it was easier to talk to Eunice than to those at home, Clare could
not decide. Perhaps, had she discovered the reason, she might not have
found it very flattering to her self-love.

"Mistress Eunice, think you it easy to be content with small gear?"

"You would say with lack of goods?" asked Eunice.

"Nay; but with the having to deal with petty, passing matter, in the
stead of some noble deed that should be worthy the doing."

"I take you now, Mistress Clare. And I can feel for your perplexity,
seeing I have known the same myself."

"Oh, you have so?" responded Clare eagerly.

"Ay, I have felt as though the work set me to do were sheer waste of
such power and knowledge as God had given unto me; and have marvelled (I
would speak it with reverence) what the Lord would be at, that He thus
dealt with me. Petty things--mean things--little passing matter, as you
said, that none shall be the better for to-morrow; wherefore must I do
these? I have made a pudding, maybe; I have shaken up a bed; I have cut
an old gown into a kirtle. And to-morrow the pudding shall be eaten,
and the bed shall lack fresh straw, and ere long the gown shall be worn
to rags. But I shall live for ever. Wherefore should a soul be set to
such work which shall live for ever?