ed me for having spent so
much of my life in idleness; that is uselessly, to all but myself."

"Did I?"

"You did. And I have thought about it since. And I quite agree with you
that to be idle is to be neither wise nor dignified. But here rises a
difficulty. I think I would like to be of some use in the world, if I
could. But I do not know what to set about."

Lois waited, with silent attention.

"My question is this: How is a man to find his work in the world?"

Lois's eyes, which had been on his face, went away to the fire. His,
which had been on the ground, rose to her face.

"I am in a fog," he said

"I believe every one has his work," Lois remarked.

"I think you said so."

"The Bible says so, at any rate."

"_Then_ how is a man to find his work?" Philip asked, half smiling; at
the same time he drew up his chair a little nearer the fire, and began
to put the same in order. Evidently he was not going away immediately,
and had a mind to talk out the subject. But why with her? And was he
not going to his sister's?--

"If each one has, not only his work but his peculiar work, it must be a
very important matter to make sure he has found it. A wheel in a
machine can do its own work, but it cannot take the part of another
wheel. And your words suppose an exact adjustment of parts and powers."

"The Bible words," said Lois.

"Yes. Well, to my question. I do not know what I ought to do, Miss
Lois. I do not see the work to my hand. How am I ever to be any wiser?"

"I am the last person you should ask. And besides,--I do not think
anybody knows enough to set another his appointed task."

"How is he to find it, then?"

"He must ask the One who does know."

"Ask?--_Pray_, you mean?"

"Yes, pray. He must ask to be shown what he ought to do, and how to do
it. God knows what place he is meant to fill in the world."

"And if he asks, will he be told?"

"Certainly. That is the promise. 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him
ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; _and
it shall be given him_.'"

Lois's eyes came over to her questioner at the last words, as it were,
setting a seal to them.

"How will he get the answer? Suppose, for instance, I want wisdom; and
I kneel down and pray that I may know my work. I rise from my
prayer,--there is no voice, nor writing, nor visible sign; how am I the
wiser?"

"You think it will _not_ be given him?" Lois said, with a faint smile.

"I do not