If there was a reflex action in the mental influence, how much more in the tender and spiritual!  How many a word came back into her own heart like a dove, that she first thought of in giving it to her child!

She sat now in her chamber bathing and dressing baby Karen; and all the perplexities of the day,—­the days or weeks, perhaps,—­that had stretched out before her, melted into a sweetness, remembering that she herself was but one of God’s sparrows, fed out of his hand; and that all her limitations, as well as her unsuspected safeties, were the fine wires with which He surrounded and held her in.

“He knows my cage,” she thought.  “He has put me here Himself, and He will not forget me.”

Frank dined down town; Asenath had her lunch of bread and butter, and beef tea; and an egg beaten in a tumbler, with sugar and cream, for her dessert.  The children, with their biscuit and milk and baked apple, were easily cared for.  They played “sparrow” all day; Asenath put their little bowls and spoons on the low nursery table, and left them to “help themselves.”

Honest, rough Mrs. M’Cormick fetched and carried for her, and “cleaned up” down-stairs.  Then Asenath wrote a few lines to Desire Ledwith, told her strait, and asked if she could take a little trouble for her, and send her some one.

Mrs. M’Cormick went round to Greenley Street, and delivered the note.

“There!” said Desire, when she had read it, to Bel Bree who was in the room.  “The Providence mail is in, early; and this is for you.”

When Bel had seen what it was, she realized suddenly that Providence had taken her at her word.  She was in for it now; here was this thing for her to do.  Her breath shortened with the thought of it, as with a sudden plunge into water.  Who could tell how it would turn out?  She had been so brave in counseling and urging others; what if she should make a mistake of it, herself?

“She hasn’t anybody; she would take Kate, maybe Kate must just go.  It won’t be half a chance to try it, if I can’t try it my way.”

“It is a clear stage,” said Desire Ledwith.  “If you can act out your little programme anywhere, you can act it at the Schermans’.”

“Is it a cellar kitchen?”

Bel laughed as soon as she had asked the question.  She caught herself turning catechetical at once, after the servant-girl fashion.

“I was thinking about Kate.  But I don’t wonder they inquire about things.  It’s a question of home.”

“Of course it is.  There ought to be questions,—­on both parts.  Every fair person knows that is fair.  Neither side ought to assume the pure bestowal of a favor.  But the one who has the home already may be supposed to consider at least as carefully whom she will take in, as she who comes to offer service as an equivalent.  I believe it is a cellar kitchen; at least, a basement.  The house is on the lower side; there must be good windows.”