Often she came with light feet and a manner almost cheery, to go away with eyes cast down and lips set and curved and steps that were slow and heavy.
Time had not yet solved the mystery of her baby's life or death; and until it was solved, time had no power to abate the yearning at her heart, to dull the edge of anxious suspense or to reconcile her to a Providence that seemed only cruel.

In her daily prayers this thought of cruelty in God often came in to hide his face from her, and she rose from her knees more frequently in a passion of despairing tears than comforted.

How often she pleaded with God, weeping bitter tears, that he would give her certainty in place of terrible doubts! Again, she would implore his loving care over her poor baby, wherever it might be.
So the days wore on, until nearly three years had elapsed since Edith's child was born.
It was Christmas eve, but there were no busy hands at work, made light by loving hearts, in the home of Mr.Dinneford.All its chambers were silent.

And yet the coming anniversary was not to go uncelebrated.
Edith's heart was full of interest for the children of the poor, the lowly, the neglected and the suffering, whom Christ came to save and to bless.

Her anniversary was to be spent with them, and she was looking forward to its advent with real pleasure.
"We have made provision for four hundred children, said her father.