Opportunities. Warner Susan

sir. Mrs. Eldridge has none. She has almost nothing, and as she says, there is nobody that cares."

      "Well, that will not do," said the minister. "We must see about getting a kettle for her."

      "Then, Mr. Richmond, Mrs. Rogers is a third opportunity. She has been sick a-bed for five years, and there is not a Bible in the house."

      "There are opportunities starting up on every side, as soon as we are ready for them," said the minister.

      "But Mr. Richmond – I am afraid, – I am not ready for them."

      "Why so, my dear child? I thought you were."

      "I am afraid I was sorry when I found out about Mrs. Rogers."

      "Why were you sorry?"

      "There seemed so much to do, Mr. Richmond; so much disagreeable work. Why, it would take every bit of time I have got, and more, to attend to those two; every bit."

      There came a rush of something that for a moment dimmed Mr. Richmond's blue eyes; for a moment he was silent. And for that moment, too, the language of gold clouds and sky was a sharp answer – the answer of Light – to the thoughts of earth.

      "It is very natural," Mr. Richmond said. "It is a natural feeling."

      "But it is not right, is it?" said Matilda, timidly.

      "Is it like Jesus?"

      "No, sir."

      "Then it cannot be right. 'Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Himself the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.'

      "Who 'pleased not Himself.' Who 'had not where to lay His head!' Who, 'though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor.' 'He laid down His life for us, and we ought to lay our lives down for the brethren.'"

      Matilda listened, with a choking feeling coming in her throat.

      "But then what can I do, Mr. Richmond? how can I help feeling so?"

      "There is only one way, dear Matilda," said her friend. "The way is, to love Jesus so much, that you like His will better than your own; so much, that you would rather please Him than please yourself."

      "How can I get that, Mr. Richmond?"

      "Where we get all other good things. Ask the Lord to reveal Himself in your heart, so that the love of Him may take full possession."

      The walk was silent for the greater part of the remaining way – silent and pleasant. The colours of sunset faded away, but a cool, fair, clear heaven carried on the beauty and the wordless speech of the earlier evening. At Matilda's gate Mr. Richmond stopped, and holding her hand still, spoke with a bright smile.

      "I will give you a text to think about and pray over, Matilda."

      "Yes, Mr. Richmond."

      "Keep it, and think of it, and pray about it, till you understand it, and love it."

      "Yes, Mr. Richmond. I will."

      "The words are these. You will find them in the fourth chapter of the Second Epistle to the Corinthians."

      "In the fourth chapter of the Second Epistle to the Corinthians. Yes, sir."

      "These are the words. 'Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body.' Good night."

      CHAPTER IV

      Matilda thought so much over Lilac Lane and the words Mr. Richmond had given her, that Maria charged her with being unsociable. Much Matilda wished that she could have talked with her sister about those same words; but Maria was in another line.

      "You are getting so wrapped up in yourself," she said, "there is no comfort in you. I might as well have no sister; and I guess Aunt Candy means I shan't. She gives you all the good times, up in her room, among the pretty things; I am only fit for washing dishes. Well, it's her opinion; it isn't mine."

      "I don't have a good time up there, Maria, indeed. I would a great deal rather be down here washing dishes, or doing anything."

      "What do you go there for, then?"

      "I have to go."

      "We didn't use to have to do anything, when mamma was living. I wouldn't do it, if I were you, if I didn't like it."

      "I don't like it," said Matilda; "but I think I ought to do what Aunt Candy wishes, as long as it is not something wrong."

      "She'll come to that," said Maria; "or it'll be something you will think wrong; and then we shall have a time! I declare, I believe I shall be glad!"

      "What for, Maria?"

      "Why! Then I shall have you again. You'll come on my side. It's lonely to have the dirty work all to myself. I don't suppose you mind it."

      "Indeed, but I do," said Matilda. "I don't like to sit up-stairs darning stockings."

      "And reading. And I don't know what."

      "The reading is worse," said Matilda, sighing. "It is something I do not understand."

      "What does she make you do it for?"

      "I don't know," said Matilda, with another sigh. "But I want to do something else dreadfully, all the time."

      The darning was very tedious indeed the morning after this talk. Matilda had got her head full of schemes and plans that looked pleasant; and she was eager to turn her visions into reality. It was stupid to sit in her aunt's room, taking up threads on her long needle exactly and patiently, row after row. It had to be done exactly, or Mrs. Candy would have made her pick it all out again.

      "Yes, that is very well; that is neat," said Mrs. Candy, when Matilda brought her the stocking she had been at work on, with the heel smoothly run. "That will do. Now you may begin upon another one. There they are, in that basket."

      "But, Aunt Candy," said Matilda, in dismay, "don't you think I have learned now how to do it?"

      "Yes, pretty well."

      "Then, need I do any more?"

      "A little further practice will not hurt you. Practice makes perfect, you know."

      "But do you mean that I must darn all those stockings."

      "Aren't they yours?"

      "Yes, ma'am; I believe they are."

      "Who should darn them, then?"

      Matilda very sorrowfully remembered the hand which did darn them once and thought it no hardship. Her hand went swiftly up to her eyes before she spoke again.

      "I think it is right I should do them, and I will. May I take them away and do them in my own room?"

      "You may do exactly what I tell you, my dear."

      "Does it make any difference, Aunt Candy?"

      "That is something you need not consider. All you have to do is to obey orders. The more promptly and quietly, the easier for you, Matilda."

      Matilda coloured, bridled, kept down the wish to cry, and began upon the second heel of her stockings. She was tired of that long needle and its long needleful of double thread.

      "Matilda," said her aunt, "put down your stocking and look at me."

      Which Matilda did, much surprised.

      "When you wish to answer any thing I say, I prefer always that you should answer me in words."

      "Ma'am?" said Matilda.

      "You heard me."

      "But I did not understand you."

      "Again!" said Clarissa.

      "I do not like to be answered by gestures. Do you understand that?"

      "No, ma'am; I do not know what you mean by saying it."

      "You do not know that you answered me by a toss of your head just now?"

      "No,