"God make my life a little flower," the words repeated themselves again in her brain.

"Miss Patch called me a piece of sweet garden.

I wonder--" But what Jessie wondered she could not put into words.
In a vague way, that she scarcely as yet understood, it had suddenly come home to her that, perhaps, after all it was for some good purpose that she had been called upon to bear all that she had to bear.

Without those sweet, happy years at Springbrook she could never have come as a little piece of sweet garden to this sad corner of the world.

Perhaps God had something for her--even a little girl like herself--to do for Him.