ll my flowers."

"Of course you would, dear. It would be a great loss to you, wouldn't
it?"

"Oh," sighed Bella, realising for a moment how great a loss it would be,
"I don't believe I could ever bear it."

Aunt Maggie smiled sadly. "You could, dear. You will have far harder
trials than that to bear, I am afraid, or you will be more than
fortunate," and she added after a moment's silence, "We can make our
garden wherever we are, and plant our seeds, and raise our flowers."

"Not in service, Aunt Maggie?" cried Bella, incredulously, "they wouldn't
give me a bit of ground, would they, anywhere I went?"

Mrs. Langley smiled. "They might in some places where the servant makes
it her home, and the mistress tries to make it a real home to her, they
let her have a little bit of ground to call her own. But I was thinking,
dear, of another kind of garden,--the garden of life, where we can sow
good seed or bad, and raise flowers, where we and others have to tread.
Flowers of patience and honesty, good-temper, willingness, and
cheerfulness. They are very precious flowers to most people, for few get
many such along the way they have to tread; and a sunny smile or a cheery
word, or a kind act will often lighten the whole of a dull, hard day.
Don't ever forget to grow those flowers, my dear, or to shed sunshine
wherever God may order you to dwell."

"Does God order that, Aunt Maggie? Does He tell people where they must
go? and shall I have to do as He tells me, and go where He sends me?"

"Yes, dear, and you can trust Him. He will only send you where you are
needed, and where it is best for you to be."

Bella went home in a very, very thoughtful mood that night. "I wonder
where God is going to send me, and what work He has for me to do?"
The idea filled her mind until, as she reached home, the thought suddenly
rushed into her head, "I wonder what father will say, when he hears what
Aunt Maggie wants to talk to him about!"

What her father did say when first the plan was mooted, was a downright
"No! I can keep my children as long as I can work, and Bella can find
enough to do at home."

"Yes, I know," answered Aunt Maggie gently, when he had repeated this more
than once, and each time more emphatically. "And what about the time when
you can't work, William? or, if anything was to happen to you?
Do you think it is right or fair to bring up children without any
knowledge that'll earn them a decent, respectable livi