Nay, Mistress Clare--in God's world be no little things!"

"Mistress Eunice, in so saying, you make life to look a mighty terrible
thing, and full of care."

"And is life not a most terrible thing to them that use it not aright?
But for them that do trust them unto God's guidance, and search His Word
to see what He would have them do, and seek alway and above all things
but to do His will,--it may be life is matter for meditation, yea, and
watchfulness; but methinks none for care. God will see to the chain:
'tis He, not we, that is weaver thereof. We need but to be careful,
each of his little link."

"My links be wearyful ones!" said Clare with a little sigh. "'Tis to
cut, and snip, and fit, and sew, and guard, and mend. My cousin Lysken
dealeth with men and women, I with linen and woollen. Think you it
strange that her work should seem to me not only the nobler, but the
sweeter belike?"

"Methinks I have seen Mistress Lysken to deal pretty closely with linen
and woollen, sithence Father and I came hither," said Eunice smiling.
"But in very deed, Mistress Clare, 'tis but nature that it so should
seem unto you. Yet did it ever come into your mind, I pray you, that we
be poor judges of that which is high and noble? I marvel if any save
Christ and Gabriel e'er called John Baptist a great man. Yet he was
great in the sight of the Lord. Yea, that word, `more than a prophet'
was the very accolade of the King of the whole world. You know,
Mistress Clare, that if the Queen's Majesty should call a man `Sir
Robert,' though it were but a mistake, and he no knight, that very word
from her should make him one. And the King of Heaven can make no
mistake; His great men be great men indeed. Now whether would you
rather, to be great with men, or with God?"

"Oh, with God, undoubtedly!" said Clare shyly.

"It seemeth me," said Eunice, knitting her brows a little, "there be
three questions the which your heart may ask himself touching your work.
_Wherefore_ do I this? You will very like say, Because you be bidden.
Good. But then--_How_ do I this?--is it in the most excellent way I
can? And yet again, _For whom_ do I this? That last lieth deepest of
all."

"Why, I do it for my mother and Aunt Rachel," said Clare innocently.

"Good. But wherefore not, henceforward, do it for God?"

"For God, Mistress Eunice!"

"'Tis the true touchstone of greatness. Nought can be little that a man
doth for God; like as nought