had
neither. He had sense enough not to try.

It was customary for Mr. Copley, after he had been late out at night,
to keep to his room until a late hour the next morning; so Dolly knew
what she had to expect. It suited her very well this time, for she must
think what she would say to her father when she next saw him. She took
care that a cup of coffee such as he liked was sent him; and then,
after her own slight breakfast, sat down to plan her movements. So
Rupert found her, with her Bible in her lap, but not reading; sitting
gazing out upon the bright waters of the lagoon. He came up to her,
with a depth of understanding and sympathy in his plain features which
greatly dignified them.

"Does that help?" said he, glancing at the book in Dolly's lap.

"_This?_" said Dolly. "What other help in the world is there?"

"Friends?" suggested Rupert.

"Yes, you were a great help last night," Dolly said slowly. "But there
come times--and things--when friends cannot do anything."

"And then--what does the book do?"

"The book?" Dolly repeated again. "O Rupert! it tells of the Friend
that can do everything!" Her eyes flushed with tears and she clasped
her hands as she spoke.

"What?" said Rupert; for her action was eloquent, and he was curious;
and besides he liked to make her talk.

Dolly looked at him and saw that the question was serious. She opened
her book.

"Listen. 'Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content
with such things as ye have; for He hath said, I will never leave thee
nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and
I will not fear what man shall do unto me.'"

"That makes pretty close work of it. Can you get hold of that rope? and
how much strain will it bear?"

"I believe it will bear anything," said Dolly slowly and thoughtfully;
"if one takes hold with both hands. I guess the trouble with me is,
that I only take hold with one."

"What do you do with the other hand?"

"Stretch it out towards something else, I suppose. For, see here,
Rupert;--'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on
Thee; because he trusteth in Thee.'--I am just ashamed of myself!" said
Dolly, breaking down and bursting into tears.

"What for?" said Rupert.

"Because I do not trust so."

"I should think it would be very difficult."

"It ought not to be difficult to trust a friend whose truth you know.
There! that has done me good," said the girl, sitting up a