Sunshine Factory | Page 6

well as she could with the heat, and
the flies, and her sad thoughts.
Nettie was lying on the bed asleep, her little face as white as the pillow.
"She is going to slip right away from me, and leave me alone," the poor
mother groaned to herself. "Oh, Father in heaven, help me!" she cried.
"Show me what to do for my dear little daughter." The help was nearer
than she thought.
"Mamma," said Nettie, sitting up very suddenly, "I had a nice dream; I

guess I was in the country, for there were trees all around, and green
grass, and birds singing; and such beautiful flowers! Are there any flies
there?" she said, as she brushed a troublesome one from her face.
The tears came in her mother's eyes, for she remembered dimly the
pleasant cool rooms, darkened by blinds and shade trees, where
scarcely a fly dared set it's foot, but that was long ago.
Mrs. Bertrand lived in the city, too, and she was a widow also. The
difference between her and Mrs. Holmes was that Mrs. Bertrand had a
great deal of money, and lived on the broad avenue, in a stone house,
with marble steps. She lived there winters, but as soon as the first warm
days came she packed all her handsome dresses into her trunks, and
started for her house in the country, a lovely spot on the shore of the
bay. There she spent the pleasant summers, rambling over her beautiful
grounds, resting under the shade trees, or sailing on the bay. Now, she
was not selfish and cold-hearted, if she was a rich lady; she truly loved
the Lord Jesus, and loved to do his will. So it happened that while Mrs.
Holmes sat in her attic, and begged the Lord to send her help, that Mrs.
Bertrand sat in her beautiful home, gazing out on the blue waters, and
off to the misty hills and rosy sky. Her heart swelled with thankfulness,
and she asked the Lord what to do next for him. How easy it is for God
to answer people's prayers, if they would only believe it!
[Illustration]
She sat and thought a long time of different persons, wondering what
she could do for them. But the thoughts that came oftenest, and would
not go away, were of poor sick little Nettie, and her sad young mother.
"Yes, I'll do it," she said; "I wonder I had not thought of it before."
Then she went to her writing desk, and wrote a letter and sent it off.
Now let us go and hear it read.
"A letter for me!" said Mrs. Holmes. "How strange! Who would write
to me?"

The letter was from Mrs. Bertrand, and it said: "I want you and Nettie
to come right away and spend the summer with me. I am sure the fresh
air will cure her." But that was not all. There was money enough sent to
pay their expenses, and buy them each a traveling dress, and some
other things.
I can't tell you much about how Nettie screamed for joy, and how her
mother cried, then both laughed, and both cried; but I know that not
long after two very happy beings dressed in gray, took the morning
boat and were brought safely to Mrs. Bertrand's door. Then how they
rode and sailed, and took long rambles, and gathered flowers, and
thought the time spent in sleep was wasted.
The favorite seat was in the balcony, where Nettie could watch the
sea-gulls come and go, and where you may see them all this minute,
Nettie, and her mother, and Mrs. Betrand, with her basket of flowers.
Nettie's cheeks are getting round and rosy, and it is hard to say who is
happiest of them all; but Mrs. Bertrand must be, because you know it
says: "It is more blessed to give than to receive."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]

WARREN'S VERSE.
He is a little bit of a fellow. He can't read any more than a mouse can;
but he is very fond of standing in this way, beside his mother, while she
points to the words and pronounces them; then it is easy to read them.
Last Tuesday morning he was reading this verse: "A fool despiseth his
father's instruction: but he that regardeth reproof is prudent." There
were two listeners to this lesson. Warren's father in the study was
having a great hunt after some papers, but in his haste he couldn't help
stopping to listen to the sweet little voice repeating the long words.
"Mamma," he called at last, "seems to me that is a long verse, and one

almost beyond the little man's understanding isn't it?"
Mamma laughed. "I think so," she said. "But the trouble is Warren
doesn't; his