where Uncle Bobo and Colley
would exchange many stories or yarns of their early days.

Little Miss Joy did not get strong or vigorous, but she was able to
walk about by the help of an arm. Uncle Bobo would sometimes hire a
donkey-chair, and trudge by her side as it rolled along the esplanade,
or was taken down to the edge of the water, where she loved to sit and
think, and listen to the sweet music of the chime of the waves.

It was one lovely summer's evening when little Miss Joy was enjoying
the air and her favourite song of the waves, that Bet, now grown a tall
and less ungainly girl, came up to her with a thin, sad-looking woman
dressed in black.

"I've made Aunt 'Melia come," Bet said. "I told her you wanted her,
and here she is."

"I've got the camp-stool in the chair," Joy said. "Sit down, Aunt
Amelia, and let us be comfortable and happy."

Mrs. Skinner shook her head.

"No, my dear, I can never be happy. I leave that to other people."

"Oh, yes, you can be happy!" little Miss Joy said.

"No, no; not with a broken heart!"

"God can mend broken hearts. Don't you know that, Aunt Amelia? 'He
gives medicine to heal their sickness.'"

"Not when troubles are brought upon one's self by one's own folly and
sin, my dear. No, no."

"I don't think that makes any difference," said little Miss Joy in her
clear, musical voice. "He healeth those that are broken in heart; He
giveth medicine to heal their sickness. He telleth the number of the
stars: He calleth them all by their names. I do _love_ that psalm,
because it shows God cares for little things like me and my little
troubles, and for great and mighty things like the stars. For, you
know, I _have_ my little troubles. I do long to run and skip as I used
to do, and wait on Uncle Bobo and mother, when she is tired and the
lodgers are rather tiresome, and poor grannie is cross, and _I_ am
inclined to grumble and be cross too."

"Never, never, my dear," said Mrs. Skinner.

"Well, I know I _feel_ cross, and I go to God for His medicine. I wish
you would go too, Aunt 'Melia."

Mrs. Skinner shook her head.

"I think grannie has gone to Him, and she is happier, I know. He will
give it you if you ask Him. His medicine is love, the love He had for
us when He gave us the Lord Jesus."

Mrs. Skinner still shook her head, but tears rolled down her thin,
faded cheeks.

"I must be going now," she said. "Good-bye, my dear."

"Good-bye. Kiss me, Aun