I've felt just so, and been ready to ask why it didn't please heaven to be more generous to some people, so you needn't be ashamed to tell me all about it." "I know I ought to be contented, but I'm not.

My life is very comfortable, but so quiet and uneventful, I get tired of it and want to launch out as the others have, and do something, or at least try.

I'm glad you think it isn't very bad of me, and I'd like to know what my gift is," said Rose, looking less despondent already.
"The art of living for others so patiently and sweetly that we enjoy it as we do the sunshine, and are not half grateful enough for the great blessing." "It is very kind of you to say so, but I think I'd like a little fun and fame nevertheless." And Rose did not look as thankful as she ought.
"Very natural, dear, but the fun and the fame do not last, while the memory of a real helper is kept green long after poetry is forgotten and music silent.

Can't you believe that, and be happy ?" "But I do so little, nobody sees or cares, and I don't feel as if I was really of any use," sighed Rose, thinking of the long, dull winter, full of efforts that seemed fruitless.
"Sit here, and let us see if you really do very little and if no one cares." And, drawing her to his knee, Dr.Alec went on, telling off each item on one of the fingers of the soft hand he held.
"First, an infirm old aunt is kept very happy by the patient, cheerful care of this good-for-nothing niece.

Secondly, a crotchety uncle, for whom she reads, runs, writes, and sews so willingly that he cannot get on without her.