But not to himself was Cosmo like
an angel! For indeed he was a strong, viguorous, hopeful, trusting
boy of God's in this world, and would be just such a boy in the
next--one namely who did his work, and was ready for whatever was
meant to come.
When, from all that world of snow outside, Joan entered the kitchen
with its red heart of fire, she knew for a moment how a little bird
feels when creeping under the wing of his mother. Those old
Hebrews--what poets they were! Holy and homely and daring, they
delighted in the wings of the Almighty; but the Son of the Father
made the lovely image more homely still, likening himself to the
hen under whose wings the chickens would not creep for all her
crying and calling. Then first was Joan aware of simple confidence,
of safety and satisfaction and loss of care; for the old man in the
red nightcap would see to everything! Nought would go amiss where
he was at the head of affairs! And hardly was she seated when she
felt a new fold of his protection about her: he told her he had had
her room changed, that she might be near his mother and Grizzie,
and not have to go out to reach it.
Cosmo heard with delight that his father had given up his room to
Lady Joan, and would share his. To sleep with his father was one of
the greatest joys the world held for him. Such a sense of safety
and comfort--of hen's wings--was nowhere else to be had on the face
of the great world! It was the full type of conscious well-being,
of softness and warmth and peace in the heart of strength.
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