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lonely days on the farm, as I went about my work. It is
peculiar, but sad memories do haunt. Within thirty-nine
days the Lord had taken two of our children, perhaps the
dearest to us then . . . The Lord be praised. He doeth
all things well . . .”
The last two sentences came very softly. She had
folded her hands and was now gazing through the
window across the endless prairies to the north, while the
tears stole fast down the furrowed cheeks. But rays of
sunshine sifted through the lace curtain and seemed to
seek her. In the bright sunlight the gray locks beneath
the black cap became still more silvery. Gradually her
face was illuminated by that rare smile of bliss and
contentment peculiar to her. “Yes, He doeth all things well,”
she repeated, this time bright and cheerful.
“Of course, our troubles did not end here. After we
had arrived at our destination in Minnesota my husband
was taken sick. He stayed in bed for five years; yes,
for five years. It was a sore trial. Seemed to me that I
had more need of Jens than the Lord did. He is almighty
and I a weak, frail woman in a strange country, with
five small children and my husband sick abed. But those
days also had an end. Now we are living here and have
all that we can possibly wish for.”
She must have felt that I was not listening. “What are
you thinking of now?” she demanded.
“The why of human suffering,”
She scrutinized me curiously. “Do you ever punish
your pupils?”
I nodded, not knowing that she would have me
cornered by the next question.
“And why do you do that?”
— I was very sorry, for just then my train whistled,
and I had to leave Grandma with a hurried good-bye.
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