But the latter soon roused up and spoke.

“I’ll tell you what, No. 6, there’s nothing so foolish as talking of how we shall feel, and what we shall do, if so-and-so happens.  Perhaps it never may happen, or, if it does, perhaps we may be helped to bear it quite differently from what we have expected.  So we won’t say anything more about it now.”

“I’m so glad!” exclaimed No. 6, completely reassured and made comfortable by the cheerful tone of her sister’s remark, though she had but a very imperfect idea of the meaning of it, as she forthwith proved by rambling off into a sort of self-defence and self-justification.

“And I’m not really a baby now, you know, Aunt Judy!  And I do know a great many things that are good and bad for us.  I know that you are good for us, even when you scold over sums.”

“That is a grand admission, I must own,” replied Aunt Judy, smiling; “I shall remind you of it some day.”

“Well, you may,” cried No. 6, earnestly; and added, “you see I’m not half as silly as you thought.”

Aunt Judy looked at her, wondering how she should get the child to understand what was passing through her own mind; wondering, too whether it was right to make the attempt; and she decided that on the whole it was; so she answered:-

“Ay, we grow wise enough among ourselves as we grow older, and get to know a few more things.  You are certainly a little wiser than a baby in long petticoats, and I am a little wiser than you, and mamma wiser than us both.  But towards God we remain ignorant infants all our lives.  That was what I meant.”

“But surely, Aunt Judy,” interrupted No. 6, “mamma and you know—­” There she stopped.

“Nothing about God’s dealings,” pursued Aunt Judy, “but that they are sure to be good for us, even when we like them least, and cannot understand them at all.  We know so little what we ought really to like and dislike, dear No. 6, that we often fret and cry as foolishly as the two children did, who, while they were in mourning for their mother, broke their hearts over the loss of a set of rabbits’ tails.”

No. 6 sprang up at the idea.  She had never heard of those children before.  Who were they?  Had Aunt Judy read of them in a book, or were they real children?  How could they have broken their hearts about rabbits’ tails?  It must be a very curious story, and No. 6 begged to hear it.

Aunt Judy had, however, a little hesitation about the matter.  There was something sad about the story; and there was no exact teaching to be got out of it, though certainly if it helped to shake No. 6’s faith in her own wisdom, a good effect would be produced by listening to it.  Also it was not a bad thing now and then to hear of other people having to bear trials which have not fallen to our own lot.  It must surely have a tendency to soften the heart, and make us feel more dependent upon the God who gives and takes away.  On the whole, therefore, she would tell the story, so she made No. 6 sit quietly down again, and began as follows:-