“I don’t want anything to remember him by.  I was so fond of him, I couldn’t forget if I tried.  I know I ought not to say it, but I don’t see why God let him die,” said Jack, with a quiver in his voice, for his loving heart could not help aching still.

“No, dear, we cannot see or know many things that grieve us very much, but we can trust that it is right, and try to believe that all is meant for our good.  That is what faith means, and without it we are miserable.  When you were little, you were afraid of the dark, but if I spoke or touched you, then you were sure all was well, and fell asleep holding my hand.  God is wiser and stronger than any father or mother, so hold fast to Him, and you will have no doubt or fear, however dark it seems.”

“As you do,” said Jack, going to sit on the arm of Mamma’s chair, with his cheek to hers, willing to trust as she bade him, but glad to hold fast the living hand that had led and comforted him all his life.

“Ed used to say to me when I fretted about getting well, and thought nobody cared for me, which was very naughty, ’Don’t be troubled, God won’t forget you; and if you must be lame, He will make you able to bear it,’” said Jill, softly, her quick little mind all alive with new thoughts and feelings.

“He believed it, and that’s why he liked that hymn so much.  I’m glad they sung it to-day,” said Frank, bringing his heavy dictionary to lay on the book where the flowers were pressing.

“Oh, thank you!  Could you play that tune for me?  I didn’t hear it, and I’d love to, if you are willing,” asked Jill.

“I didn’t think I ever should want to play again, but I do.  Will you sing it for her, mother?  I’m afraid I shall break down if I try alone.”

“We will all sing, music is good for us now,” said Mamma; and in rather broken voices they did sing Ed’s favorite words:—­

  “Not a sparrow falleth but its God doth know,
  Just as when his mandate lays a monarch low;
  Not a leaflet moveth, but its God doth see,
  Think not, then, O mortal, God forgetteth thee. 
  Far more precious surely than the birds that fly
  Is a Father’s image to a Father’s eye. 
  E’en thy hairs are numbered; trust Him full and free,
  Cast thy cares before Him, He will comfort thee;
  For the God that planted in thy breast a soul,
  On his sacred tables doth thy name enroll. 
  Cheer thine heart, then, mortal, never faithless be,
  He that marks the sparrows will remember thee.”

Chapter XXI

Pebbly Beach

“Now, Mr. Jack, it is a moral impossibility to get all those things into one trunk, and you mustn’t ask it of me,” said Mrs. Pecq, in a tone of despair, as she surveyed the heap of treasures she was expected to pack for the boys.

“Never mind the clothes, we only want a boating-suit apiece.  Mamma can put a few collars in her trunk for us; but these necessary things must go,” answered Jack, adding his target and air-pistol to the pile of bats, fishing-tackle, games, and a choice collection of shabby balls.