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Updated: June 24, 2025
Her sweet child's face, her dimpled, fair cheeks, her rose-bud of a mouth, and great, wistful, blue eyes, that laughed like flax-flowers in a south-wind, her tiny, round chin, and low, white forehead, were all adorned by profuse rings and coils and curls of true gold-yellow, that never would grow long, or be braided, or stay smooth, or do anything but ripple and twine and push their shining tendrils out of every bonnet or hat or hood the little creature wore, like a stray parcel of sunbeams that would shine.
We must believe that God knows best!" Her eyes, blue as flax-flowers, turned towards him wistfully. "You believe that?" she asked "You are sure that God means everything for the best, even when He makes you suffer for no fault of your own?" At this his heart was sorely troubled within him, but he answered quietly and firmly "Yes!
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