e more important than the
everyday skirmishes in his own household. Theo, therefore, knew that
on no pretext whatever might she venture to appeal to her preoccupied
father in her difficulties; but she was faithful to her charge, and
gallantly enough fought with the distracting items and their
corresponding figures, which should have agreed, but didn't. It was
uphill work, however, for the youthful housekeeper.

'Can't you come out yet, Theo? The boys are across the bay at the
Vicarage, and we could have the boat all to ourselves, if you would
only leave those nasty sums!'

It was a patient little voice that interrupted the distracted girl.
Its owner had been into the room three times already, with the same
object, to ask the pathetic question.

'Oh, don't worry me, Queenie dear! I'm just as anxious as yourself to
go on the water; but there's three halfpence gone astray, and I--I
can't find it out!' half sobbed Theo, who was getting nervous over the
troublesome figures.

Queenie, a small, sedate maiden of five, a miniature of Theo in face,
stood silent in the doorway for a few seconds, wistfully piecing out
the possible meaning of her tall sister's bewildered grief. Then she
disappeared.

'Theo, look!'

Theo glanced through her fingers, and Queenie, who had been struggling
with the clasp of what looked like a doll-purse, proudly spread out
three halfpennies so remarkably clean and bright that they had
unmistakably been carefully washed by their small owner.

'You may have these, Theo, 'stead of the three you've lost. Please
take them. I don't weally want them, for I've still got five
ha'pennies left!' The small woman spoke urgently.

'Oh, my darling Queenie, you don't understand! I could have done that
myself--I could have put in three halfpence, and made all right, but it
would have been all wrong in another way. Listen now, and I shall try
to explain to you.'

Placing her arm round Queenie's little neck, Theo tried to make the
child understand that such a proceeding would not be fair, nor upright,
nor honest. It would not be getting out of the difficulty; it would
rather be making it a deeper one.

'What's difficulties?' abruptly asked Queenie, with her round, solemn
eyes gazing into her sister's face.

'Difficulties are things made on purpose to be conquered in the right
way,' said Theo, after a pause of consideration. 'I think,' she added,
'that God puts them in our way, very often, just to