[Illustration: NETTIE COMFORTS HER MOTHER. ]

 THE

 CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER. 

 "Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. "

 BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD, " ETC. ETC. 

 WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE. 

 LONDON: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE. 

 BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. "

 Price ONE SHILLING each, with coloured Frontispiece THE TWO SCHOOLGIRLS. THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER. THE PRINCE IN DISGUISE. GERTRUDE AND HER BIBLE. MARTHA AND RACHEL. THE WIDOW AND HER DAUGHTER. THE LITTLE BLACK HEN. THE ROSE IN THE DESERT. 

 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS. 

 London: Savill, Edwards & Co. , Printers, Chandos Street. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAP. PAGE

 I. SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK 1

 II. SUNDAY'S REST 20

 III. NETTIE'S GARRET 55

 IV. THE BROWN CLOAK IN NOVEMBER 69

 V. THE NEW BLANKET 82

 VI. THE HOUSE-RAISING 97

 VII. THE WAFFLES 112

VIII. THE GOLDEN CITY 135

THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER. 

CHAPTER I. 

SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK. 

Down in a little hollow, with the sides grown full of wild thorn, alderbushes, and stunted cedars, ran the stream of a clear spring. It ranover a bed of pebbly stones, showing every one as if there had been nowater there, so clear it was; and it ran with a sweet soft murmur orgurgle over the stones, as if singing to itself and the bushes as itran. 

On one side of the little stream a worn foot path took its course amongthe bushes; and down this path one summer's afternoon came a woman and agirl. They had pails to fill at the spring; the woman had a large woodenone, and the girl a light tin pail; and they drew the water with alittle tin dipper, for it was not deep enough to let a pail be used forthat. The pails were filled in silence, only the spring always wassinging; and the woman and the girl turned and went up the path again. After getting up the bank, which was only a few feet, the path stillwent gently rising through a wild bit of ground, full of trees and lowbushes; and not far off, through the trees, there came a gleam of brightlight from the window of a house, on which the setting sun was shining. Half way to the house the girl and the woman stopped to rest; for wateris heavy, and the tin pail which was so light before it was filled, hadmade the little girl's figure bend over to one side like a willow branchall the way from the spring. They stopped to rest, and even the womanhad a very weary, jaded look. 

"I feel as if I shall give up, some of these days, " she exclaimed. 

"O no, mother!" the little girl answered, cheerfully. She was panting, with her hand on her side, and her face had a quiet, very sober look;only at those words a little pleasant smile broke over it. 

"I shall, " said the woman. "One can't stand everything, --for ever. "

The little girl had not got over panting yet, but standing there shestruck up the sweet air and words, --

 "'There is rest for the weary, There is rest for the weary, There is rest for the weary, There is rest for you. '"

"Yes, in the grave!" said the woman, bitterly. "There's no rest short ofthat, --for mind or body. "

"O yes, mother dear. 'For we which have believed do enter into rest. 'Jesus don't make us wait. "

"I believe you eat the Bible and sleep on the Bible, " said the woman, with a faint smile, taking at the same time a corner of her apron towipe away a stray tear which had gathered in her eye. "I am glad itrests you, Nettie. "

"And you, mother. "

"Sometimes, " Mrs. Mathieson answered, with a sigh. "But there's yourfather going to bring home a boarder, Nettie. "

"A boarder, mother!--What for?"

"Heaven knows!--if it isn't to break my back, and my heart together. Ithought I had enough to manage before, but here's this man coming, andI've got to get everything ready for him by to-morrow night. "

"Who is it, mother?"

"It's one of your father's friends; so it's no good, " said Mrs. Mathieson. 

"But where can he sleep?" Nettie asked, after a moment of thinking. Hermother paused. 

"There's no room but yours he can have. Barry wont be moved. "

"Where shall I sleep, mother?"

"There's no place but up in the attic. I'll see what I can do to fit upa corner for you--if I ever can get time, " said Mrs. Mathieson, takingup her pail. Nettie followed her example, and certainly did not smileagain till they reached the house. They went round to the front door, because the back door belonged to another family. At the door, as theyset down their pails again before mounting the stairs, Nettie smiled ather mother very placidly, and said--

"Don't you go to fit up the attic, mother; I'll see to it in time. I cando it just as well. "

Mrs. Mathieson made no answer but groaned internally, and they went upthe flight of stairs which led to their part of the house. The groundfloor was occupied by somebody else. A little entry way at the top ofthe stairs received the wooden pail of water, and with the tin oneNettie went into the room used by the family. It was her father andmother's sleeping-room, their bed standing in one corner. It was thekitchen apparently, for a small cooking-stove was there, on which Nettieput the tea-kettle when she had filled it. And it was the commonliving-room also; for the next thing she did was to open a cupboard andtake out cups and saucers and arrange them on a leaf table which stoodtoward one end of the room. The furniture was wooden and plain; thewoodwork of the windows was unpainted; the cups and plates were of thecommonest kind; and the floor had no covering but two strips of ragcarpeting; nevertheless the whole was tidy and very clean, showingconstant care. Mrs. Mathieson had sunk into a chair, as one who had nospirit to do anything; and watched her little daughter setting the tablewith eyes which seemed not to see her. They gazed inwardly at somethingshe was thinking of. 

"Mother, what is there for supper?"

"There is nothing. I must make some porridge. " And Mrs. Mathieson got upfrom her chair. 

"Sit you still, mother, and I'll make it. I can. "

"If both our backs are to be broken, " said Mrs. Mathieson, "I'd rathermine would break first. " And she went on with her preparations. 

"But you don't like porridge, " said Nettie. "You didn't eat anythinglast night. "

"That's nothing, child. I can bear an empty stomach, if only my brainwasn't quite so full. "

Nettie drew near the stove and looked on, a little sorrowfully. 

"I wish you had something you liked, mother! If only I was a littleolder, wouldn't it be nice? I could earn something then, and I wouldbring you home things that you liked out of my own money. "

This was not said sorrowfully, but with a bright gleam as of somefancied and pleasant possibility. The gleam was so catching, Mrs. Mathieson turned from her porridge-pot which she was stirring, to give avery heartfelt kiss to Nettie's lips; then she stirred on, and theshadow came over her face again. 

"Dear, " she said, "just go in Barry's room and straighten it up a littlebefore he comes in--will you? I haven't had a minute to do it, all day;and there wont be a bit of peace if he comes in and it isn't in order. "

Nettie turned and opened another door, which let her into a smallchamber used as somebody's bedroom. It was all brown, like the other; astrip of the same carpet in the middle of the floor, and a small cheapchest of drawers, and a table. The bed had not been made up, and thetossed condition of the bedclothes spoke for the strength and energy ofthe person that used them, whoever he was. A pair of coarse shoes werein the middle of the whole; another pair, or rather a pair ofhalf-boots, out at the toes, were in the middle of the floor; stockings, one under the bed and one under the table. On the table was a heap ofconfusion; and on the little bureau were to be seen pieces of wood, halfcut and uncut, with shavings, and the knife and saw that had made them. Old newspapers, and school books, and a slate, and two kites, with noend of tail, were lying over every part of the room that happened to beconvenient; also an ink bottle and pens; with chalk and resin and amedley of unimaginable things beside, that only boys can collecttogether and find delight in. If Nettie sighed as all this hurly-burlymet her eye, it was only an internal sigh. She set about patientlybringing things to order. First made the bed, which it took all herstrength to do: for the coverlets were of a very heavy and coarsemanufacture of cotton and woollen mixed, blue and white; and thengradually found a way to bestow the various articles in Barry'sapartment, so that things looked neat and comfortable. But perhaps itwas a little bit of a sign of Nettie's feeling, that she began softly tosing to herself, "'There is rest for the weary. '"

"Hollo!" burst in a rude boy of some fifteen years, opening the doorfrom the entry, --"who's puttin' my room to rights?"

A very gentle voice said, "I've done it, Barry. "

"What have you done with that pine log?"

"Here it is, --in the corner behind the bureau. "

"Don't you touch it now, to take it for your fire, --mind, Nettie!Where's my kite?"

"You wont have time to fly it now, Barry; supper will be ready in twominutes. "

"What you got?"

"The same kind we had last night. "

"_I_ don't care for supper. " Barry was getting the tail of his kitetogether. 

"But please, Barry, come now; because it will make mother so much moretrouble if you don't. She has the things to clear away after you'redone, you know!"

"Trouble! so much talk about trouble! _I_ don't mind trouble. I don'twant any supper, I tell you. "

Nettie knew well enough he would want it by and by, but there was no usein saying anything more, and she said nothing. Barry got his kitetogether and went off. Then came a heavier step on the stairs, which sheknew; and she hastily went into the other room to see that all wasready. The tea was made, and Mrs. Mathieson put the smoking dish ofporridge on the table, just as the door opened and a man came in. Atall, burly, strong man, with a face that would have been a good faceenough if its expression had been different, and if its hue had not beenthat of a purplish-red flush. He came to the table and silently sat downas he took a survey of what was on it. 

"Give me a cup of tea! Have you got no bread, Sophia?"

"Nothing but what you see. I hoped you would bring home some money, Mr. Mathieson. I have neither milk nor bread; it's a mercy there's sugar. Idon't know what you expect a lodger to live on. "

"Live on his board, --that'll give you enough. But you want something tobegin with. I'd go out and get one or two things--but I'm so confoundedtired. I can't. "

Mrs. Mathieson, without a word, put on a shawl and went to the closetfor her bonnet. 

"I'll go, mother! Let me go, please. I want to go, " exclaimed Nettie, eagerly. "I can get it. What shall I get, father?"

Slowly and weariedly the mother laid off her things, as quickly thechild put hers on. 

"What shall I get, father?"

"Well, you can go down the street to Jackson's, and get what your motherwants: some milk and bread; and then you'd better fetch seven pounds ofmeal and a quart of treacle. And ask him to give you a nice piece ofpork out of his barrel. "

"She can't bring all that!" exclaimed the mother; "you'd better goyourself, Mr. Mathieson. That would be a great deal more than the childcan carry, or I either. "

"Then I'll go twice, mother; it isn't far; I'd like to go. I'll get it. Please give me the money, father. "

He cursed and swore at her, for answer. "Go along, and do as you arebid, without all this chaffering! Go to Jackson's and tell him you wantthe things, and I'll give him the money to-morrow. He knows me. "

Nettie knew he did, and stood her ground. Her father was just enough inliquor to be a little thick-headed and foolish. 

"You know I can't go without the money, father, " she said, gently; "andto-morrow is Sunday. "

He cursed Sunday and swore again, but finally put his hand in his pocketand threw some money across the table to her. He was just in a state notto be careful what he did, and he threw her crown-pieces where if he hadbeen quite himself he would have given shillings. Nettie took themwithout any remark, and her basket, and went out. 

It was just sundown. The village lay glittering in the light, that wouldbe gone in a few minutes; and up on the hill the white church, standinghigh, showed all bright in the sunbeams from its sparkling vane at thetop of the spire down to the lowest step at the door. Nettie's home wasin a branch-road, a few steps from the main street of the village thatled up to the church at one end of it. All along that street thesunlight lay, on the grass and the roadway and the sidewalks and thetops of a few elm-trees. The street was empty; it was most people'ssupper-time. Nettie turned the corner and went down the village. Shewent slowly; her little feet were already tired with the work they haddone that day, and back and arms and head all seemed tired too. ButNettie never thought it hard that her mother did not go instead ofletting her go; she knew her mother could not bear to be seen in thevillage in the old shabby gown and shawl she wore; for Mrs. Mathiesonhad seen better days. And besides that, she would be busy enough as itwas, and till a late hour, this Saturday night. Nettie's gown was shabbytoo; yes, very, compared with that almost every other child in thevillage wore; yet somehow Nettie was not ashamed. She did not think ofit now, as her slow steps took her down the village street; she wasthinking what she should do about the money. Her father had given hertwo or three times as much, she knew, as he meant her to spend; he was agood workman, and had just got in his week's wages. What should Nettiedo? Might she keep and give to her mother what was over? it was, andwould be, so much wanted! and from her father they could never get itagain. He had his own ways of disposing of what he earned, and verylittle of it indeed went to the wants of his wife and daughter. Whatmight Nettie do? She pondered, swinging her basket in her hand, till shereached a corner where the village street turned off again, and wherethe store of Mr. Jackson stood. There she found Barry bargaining forsome things he at least had money for. 

"O Barry, how good!" exclaimed Nettie; "you can help me carry my thingshome. "

"I'll know the reason first, though, " answered Barry. "What are yougoing to get?"

"Father wants a bag of corn meal and a piece of pork and some treacle;and you know I can't carry them all, Barry. I've got to get bread andmilk besides. "

"Hurra!" said Barry, "now we'll have fried cakes! I'll tell you whatI'll do, Nettie--I'll take home the treacle, if you'll make me someto-night for supper. "

"O I can't, Barry! I've got so much else to do, and it's Saturdaynight. "

"Very good--get your things home yourself then. "

Barry turned away, and Nettie made her bargains. He still stood byhowever and watched her. When the pork and the meal and the treacle werebestowed in the basket, it was so heavy she could not manage to carryit. How many journeys to and fro would it cost her?

"Barry, " she said, "you take this home for me, and if mother says so, I'll make you the cakes. "

"Be quick then, " said her brother, shouldering the basket, "for I'mgetting hungry. "

Nettie went a few steps further on the main road of the village, whichwas little besides one long street and not very long either; and went inat the door of a very little dwelling, neat and tidy like all the rest. It admitted her to the tiniest morsel of a shop--at least there was along table there which seemed to do duty as a counter; and before, notbehind, it sat a spruce little woman sewing. She jumped up as Nettieentered. By the becoming smartness of her calico dress and white collar, the beautiful order of her hair, and a certain peculiarity of feature, you might know before she spoke that the little baker was a Frenchwoman. She spoke English quite well, though not so fast as she spoke her owntongue. 

"I want two loaves of bread, Mrs. August; and a pint of milk, if youplease. "

"How will you carry them, my child? you cannot take them all at thetime. "

"O yes, I can, " said Nettie, cheerfully. "I can manage. They are notheavy. "

"No, I hope not, " said the Frenchwoman; "it is not heavy, my bread! buttwo loaves are not one, no more. Is your mother well?"

She then set busily about wrapping the loaves in paper and measuring outthe milk. Nettie answered her mother was well. 

"And you?" said the little woman, looking at her sideways. "Somebody istired this evening. "

"Yes, " said Nettie, brightly; "but I don't mind. One must be tiredsometimes. Thank you, ma'am. "

The woman had put the loaves and the milk carefully in her arms and inher hand, so that she could carry them, and looked after her as she wentup the street. 

"One must be tired sometimes!" said she to herself, with a turn of hercapable little head. "I should like to hear her say 'One must be restedsometimes;' but I do not hear that. "

So perhaps Nettie thought, as she went homeward. It would have been verynatural. Now the sun was down, the bright gleam was off the village; thesoft shades of evening were gathering and lights twinkled in windows. Nettie walked very slowly, her arms full of the bread. Perhaps shewished her Saturday's work was all done, like other people's. All I cantell you is, that as she went along through the quiet deserted street, all alone, she broke out softly singing to herself the words, "No need of the sun in that day Which never is followed by night. "

And that when she got home she ran up stairs quite briskly, and came inwith a very placid face; and told her mother she had had a pleasantwalk--which was perfectly true. 

"I'm glad, dear, " said her mother, with a sigh. "What made it pleasant?"

"Why, mother, " said Nettie, "Jesus was with me all the way. "

"God bless you, child!" said her mother; "you are the very rose of myheart!"

There was only time for this little dialogue, for which Mr. Mathieson'sslumbers had given a chance. But then Barry entered, and noisily claimedNettie's promise. And without a cloud crossing her sweet brow, she madethe cakes, and baked them on the stove, and served Barry until he hadenough; nor ever said how weary she was of being on her feet. Therewere some cakes left, and Mrs. Mathieson saw to it that Nettie sat downand ate them; and then sent her off to bed without suffering her to doanything more; though Nettie pleaded to be allowed to clear away thedishes. Mrs. Mathieson did that; and then sat down to make darns andpatches on various articles of clothing, till the old clock of thechurch on the hill tolled out solemnly the hour of twelve all over thevillage. 

CHAPTER II. 

SUNDAY'S REST. 

Nettie's room was the only room on that floor besides her mother's andBarry's. It was at the back of the house, with a pleasant look-out overthe trees and bushes between it and the spring. Over these the view wentto distant hills and fields, that always looked pretty in all sorts oflights, Nettie thought. Besides that, it was a clean, neat little room;bare to be sure, without even Barry's strip of rag carpet; but on alittle black table lay Nettie's Bible and Sunday-school books; and eachwindow had a chair; and a chest of drawers held all her little wardrobeand a great deal of room to spare besides; and the cot-bed in one cornerwas nicely made up. It was a very comfortable-looking room to Nettie. 

"So this is the last night I shall sleep here!" she thought as she wentin. "To-morrow I must go up to the attic. Well, --I can pray there justthe same; and God will be with me there just the same. "

It was a comfort; but it was the only one Nettie could think of inconnexion with her removal. The attic was no room, but only a littlegarret used as a lumber place; not boarded up, nor plastered at all;nothing but the beams and the side-boarding for the walls, and nothingbut the rafters and the shingles between it and the sky. Besides which, it was full of lumber of one sort and another. How Nettie was to move upthere the next day, being Sunday, she could not imagine; but she was sotired that as soon as her head touched her pillow she fell fast asleep, and forgot to think about it. 

The next thing was the bright morning light rousing her, and the joyfulthought that it was Sunday morning. A beautiful day it was. The easternlight was shining over upon Nettie's distant hills, with all sorts offresh lovely colours and promise of what the coming hours would bring. Nettie looked at them lovingly, for she was very fond of them and had agreat many thoughts about those hills. "As the mountains are round aboutJerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people;"--that was one thingthey made her think of. She thought of it now as she was dressing, andit gave her the feeling of being surrounded with a mighty and strongprotection on every side. It made Nettie's heart curiously glad, and hertongue speak of joyful things; for when she knelt down to pray she wasfull of thanksgiving. 

The next thing was, that taking her tin pail Nettie set off down to thespring to get water to boil the kettle. It was so sweet and pleasant--noother spring could supply nicer water. The dew brushed from the bushesand grass as she went by; and from every green thing there went up afresh dewy smell that was reviving. The breath of the summer wind, moving gently, touched her cheek and fluttered her hair, and said Godhad given a beautiful day to the world; and Nettie thanked him in herheart and went on rejoicing. Sunday was Nettie's holiday, andSunday-school and church were her delight. And though she went in allweathers, and nothing would keep her, yet sunshine is sunshine; and shefelt so this morning. So she gaily filled her pail at the spring andtrudged back with it to the house. The next thing was to tap at hermother's door. 

Mrs. Mathieson opened it, in her nightgown; she was just up, and lookedas if her night's sleep had been all too short for her. 

"Why, Nettie!--is it late?" she said, as Nettie and the tin pail camein. 

"No, mother; it's just good time. You get dressed, and I'll make thefire ready. It's beautiful out, mother. "

Mrs. Mathieson made no answer, and Nettie went to work with the fire. Itwas an easy matter to put in some paper and kindle the light wood; andwhen the kettle was on, Nettie went round the room softly setting it torights as well as she could. Then glanced at her father, still sleeping. 

"I can't set the table yet, mother. "

"No, child; go off, and I'll see to the rest. If I can get folks up, atleast, " said Mrs. Mathieson, somewhat despondingly. Sunday morning thatwas a doubtful business, she and Nettie knew. Nettie went to her ownroom to carry out a plan she had. If she could manage to get her thingsconveyed up to the attic without her mother knowing it, just so muchlabour and trouble would be spared her, and her mother might have abetter chance of some rest that day. Little enough, with a lodger comingthat evening! To get her things up there, --that was all Nettie would doto-day; but that must be done. The steep stairs to the attic went upfrom the entry way, just outside of Nettie's door. She went up the firsttime to see what place there was to bestow anything. 

The little garret was strewn all over with things carelessly thrown in, merely to get them out of the way. There was a small shutter window ineach gable. One was open, just revealing the utter confusion; buthalf-showing the dust that lay on everything. The other window, the backone, was fairly shut up by a great heap of boxes and barrels piledagainst it. In no part was there a clear space, or a hopeful opening. Nettie stood aghast for some moments, not knowing what to do. "But if Idon't, mother will have to, " she thought. It nerved her little arm, andone thought of her invisible protection nerved her heart, which had sunkat first coming up. Softly she moved and began her operations, lest hermother down stairs should hear and find out what she was about before itwas done. Sunday too! But there was no help for it. 

Notwithstanding the pile of boxes, she resolved to begin at the end withthe closed window; for near the other there were things she could notmove: an old stove, a wheelbarrow, a box of heavy iron tools, and somebags of charcoal and other matters. By a little pushing and coaxing, Nettie made a place for the boxes, and then began her task of removingthem. One by one, painfully, for some were unwieldy and some wereweighty, they travelled across in Nettie's arms, or were shoved, orturned over and over across the floor, from the window to a snugposition under the eaves where she stowed them. Barry would have been agood hand at this business, not to speak of his father: but Nettie knewthere was no help to be had from either of them; and the very thought ofthem did not come into her head. Mr. Mathieson, provided he worked athis trade, thought the "women-folks" might look after the house; Barryconsidered that when he had got through the heavy labours of school, hehad done his part of the world's work. So Nettie toiled on with herboxes and barrels. They scratched her arms; they covered her clean facewith dust; they tried her strength; but every effort saved one to hermother, and Nettie never stopped except to gather breath and rest. 

The last thing of all under the window was a great old chest. Nettiecould not move it, and she concluded it might stay there veryconveniently for a seat. All the rest of the pile she cleared away, andthen opened the window. There was no sash; nothing but a wooden shutterfastened with a hook. Nettie threw it open. There, to her great joy, behold she had the very same view of her hills, all shining in the sunnow. Only this window was higher than her old one, and lifted her upmore above the tops of the trees, and gave a better and clearer andwider view of the distant open country she liked so much. Nettie wasgreatly delighted, and refreshed herself with a good look out and abreath of fresh air before she began her labours again. That gave thedust a little chance to settle, too. 

There was a good deal to do yet before she could have a place clear forher bed, not to speak of anything more. However, it was done at last;the floor brushed up, all ready, and the top of the chest wiped clean;and next Nettie set about bringing all her things up the stairs andsetting them here, where she could. Her clothes, her little bit of alooking-glass, her Bible and books and slate, even her little washstand, she managed to lug up to the attic; with many a journey and much pains. But it was about done, before her mother called her to breakfast. Thetwo lagging members of the family had been roused at last, and wereseated at the table. 

"Why, what have you been doing, child? how you look!" said Mrs. Mathieson. 

"How do I look?" said Nettie. 

"Queer enough, " said her father. 

Nettie laughed, and hastened to another subject; she knew if they gotupon this there would be some disagreeable words before it was over. Shehad made up her mind what to do, and now handed her father the moneyremaining from her purchases. "You gave me too much, father, lastnight, " she said, simply; "here is the rest. " Mr. Mathieson took it andlooked at it. 

"Did I give you all this?"

"Yes, father. "

"Did you pay for what you got, besides?"

"Yes. "

He muttered something which was very like an oath in his throat, andlooked at his little daughter, who was quietly eating her breakfast. Something touched him unwontedly. 

"You're an honest little girl!" he said. "There! you may have that foryourself;" and he tossed her a shilling. 

You could see, by a little streak of pink colour down each of Nettie'scheeks, that some great thought of pleasure had started into her mind. "For myself, father?" she repeated. 

"All for yourself, " said Mr. Mathieson, buttoning up his money with avery satisfied air. Nettie said no more, only ate her breakfast a littlequicker after that. It was time, too; for the late hours of some of thefamily always made her in a hurry about getting to Sunday-school; andthe minute Nettie had done, she got her bonnet, her Sunday bonnet--thebest she had to wear--and set off. Mrs. Mathieson never let her wait foranything at home _that_ morning. 

This was Nettie's happy time. It never troubled her, that she hadnothing but a sun-bonnet of white muslin, nicely starched and ironed, while almost all the other girls that came to the school had littlestraw bonnets trimmed with blue and pink and yellow and green ribbons;and some of them wore silk bonnets. Nettie did not even think of it; sheloved her Sunday lesson, and her Bible, and her teacher, so much; andit was such a good time when she went to enjoy them all together. Therewas only a little way she had to go; for the road where Mrs. Mathiesonlived, after running down a little further from the village, met anotherroad which turned right up the hill to the church; or Nettie could takethe other way, to the main village street, and straight up that. Generally she chose the forked way, because it was the emptiest. 

Nettie's class in the Sunday-school was of ten little girls about herown age; and their teacher was a very pleasant and kind gentleman, namedMr. Folke. Nettie loved him dearly; she would do anything that Mr. Folketold her to do. Their teacher was very apt to give the children aquestion to answer from the Bible; for which they had to look out textsduring the week. This week the question was, "Who are happy?" and Nettiewas very eager to know what answers the other girls would bring. She wasin good time, and sat resting and watching the boys and girls andteachers as they came in, before the school began. She was first thereof all her class; and watching so eagerly to see those who were coming, that she did not know Mr. Folke was near till he spoke to her. Nettiestarted and turned. 

"How do you do?" said her teacher, kindly. "Are you quite well, Nettie, this morning?" For he thought she looked pale and tired. But her facecoloured with pleasure and a smile shone all over it, as she told himshe was very well. 

"Have you found out who are the happy people, Nettie?"

"Yes, Mr. Folke; I have found a verse. But I knew before. "

"I thought you did. Who are they, Nettie?"

"Those that love Jesus, sir. "

"Ay. In the Christian armour, you know, the feet are 'shod with thepreparation of the Gospel of peace. ' With the love of Jesus in ourhearts, our feet can go over very rough ways and hardly feel that theyare rough. Do you find it so?"

"O yes, sir!"

He said no more, for others of the class now came up; and Nettiewondered how he knew, or if he knew, that she had a rough way to goover. But his words were a help and comfort to her. So was the wholelesson that day. The verses about the happy people were beautiful. Theseven girls who sat on one side of Nettie repeated the blessings told ofin the fifth chapter of Matthew, about the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, those that hunger and thirst after righteousness, themerciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers. Then came Nettie'sverse. It was this:

"Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is inthe Lord his God. "

The next girl gave the words of Jesus, "If ye know these things, happyare ye if ye do them. "

The last gave, "Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sinis covered. "

Then came Mr. Folke's verse, and Nettie thought it was the mostbeautiful of all. "Blessed are they that do his commandments, that theymay have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gatesinto the city. "

Then Mr. Folke talked about that city; its streets of gold, and thegates of pearl, through which nothing that defileth can by any meansenter. He told how Jesus will make his people happy there; how they willbe with him, and all their tears wiped away. And Jesus will be theirShepherd; his sheep will not wander from him anymore; "and they shallsee his face, and his name shall be in their foreheads. " Nettie couldhardly keep from crying as Mr. Folke went on; she felt as if she washalf in heaven already, and it seemed very odd to cry for gladness; butshe could not help it. Then the school closed with singing the hymn, "O how happy are they Who the Saviour obey, And have laid up their treasures above. "

From school they went to church, of course. A strange minister preachedthat day, and Nettie could not understand him always; but the words ofthe hymn and Mr. Folke's words ran in her head then, and she was veryhappy all church time. And as she was walking home, still the tune andthe words ran in her ears, "Jesus all the day long Is my joy and my song; O that all his salvation might see!"

So, thinking busily, Nettie got home and ran up stairs. What a change!It looked like a place very, very far from those gates of pearl. 

Her mother sat on one side of the stove, not dressed for church, andleaning her head on her hand. Mr. Mathieson was on the other side, talking and angry. Barry stood back, playing ball by himself by throwingit up and catching it again. The talk stopped at Nettie's entrance. Shethrew off her bonnet and began to set the table, hoping that would bringpeace. 

"Your father don't want any dinner, " said Mrs. Mathieson. 

"Yes I do!"--thundered her husband; "but I tell you I'll take anythingnow; so leave your cooking till supper--when Lumber will be here. Goon, child! and get your work done. "

There were no preparations for dinner, and Nettie was at a loss; and didnot like to say anything for fear of bringing on a storm. Her motherlooked both weary and out of temper. The kettle was boiling, --the onlything about the room that had a pleasant seeming. 

"Will you have a cup of tea, father?" said Nettie. 

"Anything you like--yes, a cup of tea will do; and hark'ye, child, Iwant a good stout supper got this afternoon. Your mother don't choose tohear me. Mr. Lumber is coming, and I want a good supper to make himthink he's got to the right place. Do you hear, Nettie?"

"Yes, father. "

Nettie went on to do the best she could. She warmed the remains of lastnight's porridge and gave it to Barry with treacle, to keep him quiet. Meanwhile she had made the tea, and toasted a slice of bread verynicely, though with great pains, for the fire wasn't good; and thetoast and a cup of tea she gave to her father. He eat it with aneagerness which let Nettie know she must make another slice as fast aspossible. 

"Hollo! Nettie--I say, give us some of that, will you?" said Barry, finding his porridge poor in taste. 

"Barry, there isn't bread enough--I can't, " whispered Nettie. "We've gotto keep a loaf for supper. "

"Eat what you've got, or let it alone!" thundered Mr. Mathieson, in theway he had when he was out of patience, and which always tried Nettieexceedingly. 

"She's got more, " said Barry. "She's toasting two pieces this minute. Iwant one. "

"I'll knock you over, if you say another word, " said his father. Nettiewas frightened, for she saw he meant to have the whole, and she haddestined a bit for her mother. However, when she gave her father hissecond slice, she ventured, and took the other with a cup of tea to theforlorn figure on the other side of the stove. Mrs. Mathieson took onlythe tea. But Mr. Mathieson's ire was roused afresh. Perhaps toast andtea didn't agree with him. 

"Have you got all ready for Mr. Lumber?" he said, in a tone of voicevery unwilling to be pleased. 

"No, " said his wife, --"I have had no chance. I have been cooking andclearing up all the morning. His room isn't ready. "

"Well, you had better get it ready pretty quick. What's to do?"

"Everything's to do, " said Mrs. Mathieson. 

He swore at her. "Why can't you answer a plain question? I say, _what's_to do?"

"There's all Nettie's things in the room at present. They are all tomove up stairs, and the red bedstead to bring down. "

"No, mother, " said Nettie, gently, --"all my things are up stairsalready;--there's only the cot and the bed, that I couldn't move. "

Mrs. Mathieson gave no outward sign of the mixed feeling of pain andpleasure that shot through her heart. Pleasure at her child's thoughtfullove, pain that she should have to show it in such a way. 

"When did you do it, Nettie?"

"This morning before breakfast, mother. It's all ready, father, if youor Barry would take up my cot and the bed, and bring down the otherbedstead. It's too heavy for me. "

"That's what I call doing business and having some spirit, " said herfather. "Not sitting and letting your work come to you. Here, Nettie--I'll do the rest for you. "

Nettie ran with him to show him what was wanted; and Mr. Mathieson'sstrong arms had it all done very quickly. Nettie eagerly thanked him;and then seeing him in good-humour with her, she ventured somethingmore. 

"Mother's very tired to-day, father, " she whispered; "she'll feel betterby and by if she has a little rest. Do you think you would mind helpingme put up this bedstead?"

"Well, here goes!" said Mr. Mathieson. "Which piece belongs here, tobegin with?"

Nettie did not know much better than he; but putting not only her wholemind but also her whole heart into it, she managed to find out anddirect him successfully. Her part was hard work; she had to standholding up the heavy end of the bedstead while her father fitted in thelong pieces; and then she helped him to lace the cords, which had to bedrawn very tight; and precious time was running away fast, and Nettiehad had no dinner. But she stood patiently, with a thought in her heartwhich kept her in peace all the while. When it was done, Mr. Mathiesonwent out; and Nettie returned to her mother. She was sitting where shehad left her. Barry was gone. 

"Mother, wont you have something to eat?"

"I can't eat, child. Have you had anything yourself?"

Nettie had seized a remnant of her father's toast, and was munching ithastily. 

"Mother, wont you put on your gown and come to church this afternoon?Do! It will rest you. Do, mother!"

"You forget I've got to get supper, child. Your father doesn't think itnecessary that anybody should rest, or go to church, or do anythingexcept work. What he is thinking of, I am sure I don't know. There is noplace to eat in but this room, and he is going to bring a stranger intoit; and if I was dying I should have to get up for every meal that iswanted. I never thought I should come to live so! And I cannot dressmyself, or prepare the victuals, or have a moment to myself, but I havethe chance of Mr. Lumber and your father in here to look on! It is worsethan a dog's life!"

It looked pretty bad, Nettie thought. She did not know what to say. Shebegan clearing away the things on the table. 

"And what sort of a man this Mr. Lumber is, I don't know. I dare say heis like his name--one of your father's cronies--a drinker and a swearer. And Mr. Mathieson will bring him here, to be on my hands! It will killme before spring, if it lasts. "

"Couldn't there be a bed made somewhere else for Barry, mother? and thenwe could eat in there. "

"Where would you make it? I could curtain off a corner of this room, butBarry wouldn't have it, nor your father; and they'd all want to beclose to the fire the minute the weather grows the least bit cool. No--there is nothing for me, but to live on till Death calls for me!"

"Mother--Jesus said, 'He that liveth and believeth in me shall neverdie. '"

"O yes!" said Mrs. Mathieson, with a kind of long-drawn groan, "I don'tknow how it will be about that! I get so put about, now in these times, that it seems to me I don't know my own soul!"

"Mother, come to church this afternoon. "

"I can't, child. I've got to put up that man's bed and make it. "

"That is all done, mother, and the floor brushed up. Do come!"

"Why, who put it up?"

"Father and I. "

"Well! you do beat all, Nettie. But I can't, child; I haven't time. "

"Yes, mother, plenty. There's all the hour of Sunday-school beforechurch begins. Now do, mother!"

"Well--you go off to school; and if I can, maybe I will. You go rightoff, Nettie. "

Nettie went, feeling weary and empty by dint of hard work and a dinnerof a small bit of dry toast. But she thought little about that. Shewanted to ask Mr. Folke a question. 

The lesson that afternoon was upon the peacemakers; and Mr. Folke askedthe children what ways they knew of being a peacemaker? The answersomehow was not very ready. 

"Isn't it to stop people from quarrelling?" one child asked. 

"How can you do that, Kizzy?"

Kizzy seemed doubtful. "I could ask them to stop, " she said. 

"Well, suppose you did. Would angry people mind your asking?"

"I don't know, sir. If they were very angry, I suppose they wouldn't. "

"Perhaps not. One thing is certain, Kizzy; you must have peace in yourown heart, to give you the least chance. "

"How, Mr. Folke?"

"If you want to put out a fire, you must not stick into it somethingthat will catch?"

"That would make the fire worse, " said one of the girls. 

"Certainly. So if you want to touch quarrelsome spirits with the leasthope of softening them, you must be so full of the love of Jesusyourself that nothing but love can come out of your own spirit. You seeit means a good deal, to be a peacemaker. "

"I always thought that must be one of the easiest things of the wholelot, " said one of the class. 

"You wont find it so, I think; or rather you will find they are allparts of the same character, and the blessing is one. But there are moreways of being a peacemaker. What do you do when the hinge of a doorcreaks?"

One said "she didn't know;" another said "Nothing. " "I stop my ears, "said a third. Mr. Folke laughed. 

"_That_ would not do for a peacemaker, " he said. "Don't you know whatmakes machinery work smoothly?"

"Oil!" cried Kizzy. 

"Oil to be sure. One little drop of oil will stop ever so much creakingand groaning and complaining, of hinges and wheels and all sorts ofmachines. Now, peoples' tempers are like wheels and hinges--but whatsort of oil shall we use?"

The girls looked at each other, and then one of them said, "Kindness. "

"To be sure! A gentle word, a look of love, a little bit of kindness, will smooth down a roughened temper or a wry face, and soften a hardpiece of work, and make all go easily. And so of reproving sinners. ThePsalmist says, 'Let the righteous smite me; it shall be a kindness: andlet him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not breakmy head. ' But you see the peacemaker must be righteous himself, or hehasn't the oil. Love is the oil; the love of Jesus. "

"Mr. Folke, " said Nettie, timidly, "wasn't Jesus a peacemaker?"

"The greatest that ever lived!" said Mr. Folke, his eyes lighting upwith pleasure at her question. "He made all the peace there is in theworld, for he bought it, when he died on the cross to reconcile man withGod. All our drops of oil were bought with drops of blood. "

"And, " said Nettie, hesitatingly, "Mr. Folke, isn't that one way ofbeing a peacemaker?"

"What?"

"I mean, to persuade people to be at peace with him?"

"That is the way above all others, my child; that is truly to be the'children of God. ' Jesus came and preached peace; and that is what hisservants are doing, and will do, till he comes. And 'they shall becalled the children of God. ' 'Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought alsoto love one another. '"

Mr. Folke paused, with a face so full of thought, of eagerness, and oflove, that none of the children spoke and some of them wondered. Andbefore Mr. Folke spoke again the superintendent's little bell rang; andthey all stood up to sing. But Nettie Mathieson hardly could sing; itseemed to her so glorious a thing to be _that_ sort of a peacemaker. Could she be one? But the Lord blessed the peacemakers; then it must behis will that all his children should be such; then he would enable herto be one! It was a great thought. Nettie's heart swelled, with hopeand joy and prayer. She knew whose peace she longed for, first of all. 

Her mother had now come to church; so Nettie enjoyed all the serviceswith nothing to hinder. Then they walked home together, not speakingmuch to each other, but every step of the way pleasant in the Sundayafternoon light, till they got to their own door. Nettie knew what hermother's sigh meant, as they mounted the stairs. Happily, nobody was athome yet but themselves. 

"Now, mother, " said Nettie, when she had changed her dress and come tothe common room, --"what's to be for supper? I'll get it. You sit stilland read, if you want to, while it's quiet. What must we have?"

"There is not a great deal to do, " said Mrs. Mathieson. "I boiled thepork this morning, and that was what set your father up so; that'sready; and he says there must be cakes. The potatoes are all ready toput down--I was going to boil 'em this morning, and he stopped me. "

Nettie looked grave about the cakes. "However, mother, " she said, "Idon't believe that little loaf of bread would last, even if you and Ididn't touch it; it is not very big. "

Mrs. Mathieson wearily sat down and took her Testament, as Nettie beggedher; and Nettie put on the kettle and the pot of potatoes, and made thecakes ready to bake. The table was set, and the treacle and everythingon it, except the hot things, when Barry burst in. 

"Hollo, cakes!--hollo, treacle!" he shouted. "Pork and treacle--that'sthe right sort of thing. Now we're going to live something like. "

"Hush, Barry, don't make such a noise, " said his sister. "You know it'sSunday evening. "

"Sunday! well, what about Sunday? What's Sunday good for, except to eat, I should like to know?"

"O Barry!"

"O Barry!" said he, mimicking her. "Come, shut up, and fry your cake. Father and Lumber will be here just now. "

Nettie hushed, as she was bade; and as soon as her father's step washeard below, she went to frying cakes with all her might. She justturned her head to give one look at Mr. Lumber as he came in. Heappeared to her very like her father, but without the recommendationwhich her affection gave to Mr. Mathieson. A big, strong, burly fellow, with the same tinges of red about his face, that the summer sun hadnever brought there. Nettie did not want to look again. 

She had a good specimen this evening of what they might expect infuture. Mrs. Mathieson poured out the tea, and Nettie baked the cakes;and perhaps because she was almost faint for want of something to eat, she thought no three people ever ate so many griddle cakes before at onemeal. In vain plateful after plateful went upon the board, and Nettiebaked them as fast as she could; they were eaten just as fast; and whenfinally the chairs were pushed back, and the men went down stairs, Nettie and her mother looked at each other. 

"There's only one left, mother, " said Nettie. 

"And he has eaten certainly half the piece of pork, " said Mrs. Mathieson. "Come, child, take something yourself; you're ready to drop. I'll clear away. "

But it is beyond the power of any disturbance to take away the gladnessof a heart where Jesus is. Nettie's bread was sweet to her, even thatevening. Before she had well finished her supper, her father and hislodger came back. They sat down on either side the fire and began totalk, --of politics, and of their work on which they were then engaged, with their employers and their fellow-workmen; of the state of businessin the village, and profits and losses, and the success of particularmen in making money. They talked loudly and eagerly; and Nettie had togo round and round them, to get to the fire for hot water and back tothe table to wash up the cups and plates. Her mother was helping at thetable, but to get round Mr. Lumber to the pot of hot water on the fireevery now and then, fell to Nettie's share. It was not a very niceending of her sweet Sabbath day, she thought. The dishes were done andput away, and still the talk went on as hard as ever. It was sometimesa pleasure to Nettie's father to hear her sing hymns of a Sundayevening. Nettie watched for a chance, and the first time there was alull of the voices of the two men, she asked, softly, "Shall I sing, father?" Mr. Mathieson hesitated, and then answered, "No, better not, Nettie; Mr. Lumber might not find it amusing;" and the talk began again. Nettie waited a little longer, feeling exceedingly tired; then she roseand lit a candle. 

"What are you doing, Nettie?" her mother said. 

"I am going to bed, mother. "

"You can't take a candle up there, child! the attic's all full ofthings, and you'd certainly set us on fire. "

"I'll take great care, mother. "

"But you can't, child! The wind might blow the snuff of your candleright into something that would be all a flame by the time you'reasleep. You must manage without a light somehow. "

"But I can't see to find my way, " said Nettie, who was secretlytrembling with fear. 

"I'll light you then, for once, and you'll soon learn the way. Give methe candle. "

Nettie hushed the words that came crowding into her mouth, and clamberedup the steep stairs to the attic. Mrs. Mathieson followed her with thecandle till she got to the top, and there she held it till Nettie hadfound her way to the other end where her bed was. Then she saidgood-night and went down. 

The little square shutter of the window was open, and a ray of moonlightstreamed in upon the bed. It was nicely made up; Nettie saw that hermother had been there and had done that for her and wrought a littlemore space and order among the things around the bed. But the moonlightdid not get in far enough to show much more. Just a little of this thingand of that could be seen; a corner of a chest, or a gleam on the sideof a meal bag; the half light showed nothing clearly except the confusedfulness of the little attic. Nettie had given her head a blow against apiece of timber as she came through it; and she sat down upon herlittle bed, feeling rather miserable. Her fear was that the rats mightvisit her up there. She did not certainly know that there were rats inthe attic, but she had been fearing to think of them and did not dare toask; as well as unwilling to give trouble to her mother; for if they_did_ come there, Nettie did not see how the matter could be mended. Shesat down on her little bed, so much frightened that she forgot how tiredshe was. Her ears were as sharp as needles, listening to hear the scrapeof a rat's tooth upon a timber or the patter of his feet over the floor. 

For a few minutes Nettie almost thought she could not sleep up therealone, and must go down and implore her mother to let her spread her bedin a corner of her room. But what a bustle that would make. Her motherwould be troubled, and her father would be angry, and the lodger wouldbe disturbed, and there was no telling how much harm would come of it. No; the peacemaker of the family must not do that. And then the wordsfloated into Nettie's mind again, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for theyshall be called the children of God. " Like a strain of the sweetestmusic it floated in; and if an angel had come and brought the wordsstraight to Nettie, she could not have been more comforted. She felt therats could not hurt her while she was within hearing of that music; andshe got up and kneeled down upon the chest under the little window andlooked out. 

It was like the day that had passed; not like the evening. So purely andsoftly the moonbeams lay on all the fields and trees and hills, therewas no sign of anything but peace and purity to be seen. No noise ofmen's work or voices; no clangour of the iron foundry which on weekdaysmight be heard; no sight of anything unlovely; but the wide beauty whichGod had made, and the still peace and light which he had spread over it. Every little flapping leaf seemed to Nettie to tell of its Maker; andthe music of those words seemed to be all through the stillair--"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the childrenof God. " Tears of gladness and hope slowly gathered in Nettie's eyes. The children of God will enter in, by and by, through those pearlygates, into that city of gold, --"where they need no candle, neitherlight of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them light. " "So he can giveme light here--or what's better than light, " thought Nettie. "God isn'tonly out there, in all that beautiful moonlight world--he is here in mypoor little attic too; and he will take just as good care of me as hedoes of the birds, and better, for I am his child, and they are only hisbeautiful little servants. "

Nettie's fear was gone. She prayed her evening prayer; she trustedherself to the Lord Jesus to take care of her; and then she undressedherself and lay down and went to sleep, just as quietly as any sparrowof them all with its head under its wing. 

CHAPTER III. 

NETTIE'S GARRET. 

Nettie's attic grew to be a good place to her. She never heard the leastsound of rats; and it was so nicely out of the way. Barry never came upthere, and there she could not even hear the voices of her father andMr. Lumber. She had a tired time of it down stairs. 

That first afternoon was a good specimen of the way things went on. Nettie's mornings were always spent at school; Mrs. Mathieson would havethat, as she said, whether she could get along without Nettie or no. From the time Nettie got home till she went to bed, she was as busy asshe could be. There was so much bread to make, and so much beef and porkto boil, and so much washing of pots and kettles; and at meal timesthere were very often cakes to fry, besides all the other preparations. Mr. Mathieson seemed to have made up his mind that his lodger's rentshould all go to the table and be eaten up immediately; but thedifficulty was to make as much as he expected of it in that line; fornow he brought none of his own earnings home, and Mrs. Mathieson hadmore than a sad guess where they went. By degrees he came to be verylittle at home in the evenings, and he carried off Barry with him. Nettie saw her mother burdened with a great outward and inward care atonce, and stood in the breach all she could. She worked to the extent ofher strength, and beyond it, in the endless getting and clearing away ofmeals; and watching every chance, when the men were out of the way, shewould coax her mother to sit down and read a chapter in her Testament. "It will rest you so, mother, " Nettie would say; "and I will make thebread just as soon as I get the dishes done. Do let me! I like to doit. "

Sometimes Mrs. Mathieson could not be persuaded; sometimes she wouldyield, in a despondent kind of way, and sit down with her Testament andlook at it as if neither there nor anywhere else in the universe couldshe find rest or comfort any more. 

"It don't signify, child, " she said, one afternoon when Nettie had beenurging her to sit down and read. "I haven't the heart to do anything. We're all driving to rack and ruin just as fast as we can go. "

"Oh no, mother!" said Nettie. "I don't think we are. "

"I am sure of it. I see it coming every day. Every day it is a littleworse; and Barry is going along with your father; and they aredestroying me among them, body and soul too. "

"No, mother, " said Nettie, "I don't think that. I have prayed the LordJesus, and you know he has promised to hear prayer; and I know we arenot going to ruin. "

"_You_ are not, child, I believe; but you are the only one of us thatisn't. I wish I was dead, to be out of my misery!"

"Sit down, mother, and read a little bit; and don't talk so. Do, mother!It will be an hour and more yet to supper, and I'll get it ready. Yousit down and read, and I'll make the shortcakes. Do, mother! and you'llfeel better. "

It was half despair and half persuasion that made her do it; but Mrs. Mathieson did sit down by the open window and take her Testament; andNettie flew quietly about, making her shortcakes and making up the fireand setting the table, and through it all casting many a loving glanceover to the open book in her mother's hand and the weary, stony facethat was bent over it. Nettie had not said how her own back was aching, and she forgot it almost in her business and her thoughts; though by thetime her work was done her head was aching wearily too. But cakes andtable and fire and everything else were in readiness; and Nettie stoleup behind her mother and leaned over her shoulder; leaned a littleheavily. 

[1] "Don't that chapter comfort you, mother?" she whispered. 

[1] See Frontispiece. 

"No. It don't seem to me as I've got any feeling left, " said Mrs. Mathieson. It was the fourth chapter of John at which they were bothlooking. 

"Don't it comfort you to read of Jesus being wearied?" Nettie went on, her head lying on her mother's shoulder. 

"Why should it, child?"

"I like to read it, " said Nettie. "Then I know he knows how I feelsometimes. "

"God knows everything, Nettie. "

"Yes, mother; but then Jesus _felt_ it. 'He took our infirmities. ' Andoh, mother, don't you love that tenth verse?--and the thirteenth andfourteenth?"

Mrs. Mathieson looked at it, silently; then she said, "I don't rightlyunderstand it, Nettie. I suppose I ought to do so, --but I don't. "

"Why, mother! I understand it. It means, that if Jesus makes you happy, you'll never be unhappy again. 'Whosoever drinketh of the water that Ishall give him, _shall never thirst_, '--don't you see, mother? 'Shallnever thirst, '--he will have enough, and be satisfied. "

"How do you know it, Nettie?" her mother asked, in a puzzled kind ofway. 

"I know it, mother, because Jesus has given that living water to me. "

"He never gave it to me, " said Mrs. Mathieson, in the same tone. 

"But he _will_, mother. Look up there--oh, how I love that tenthverse!--'If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith tothee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he wouldhave given thee living water. ' See, mother, --he will give, if we ask. "

"And do you feel so, Nettie?--that you have enough, and are satisfiedwith your life every day?"

"Yes, mother, " Nettie said, quietly; "I am very happy. I am happy allthe time; because I think that Jesus is with me everywhere; when I'mupstairs, and when I'm busy here, and when I'm at school, and when I goto the spring; and all times. And that makes me very happy. "

"And don't you wish for anything you haven't got?" said her mother. 

"Yes, one thing, " said Nettie. "I just wish that you and father andBarry may be so happy too; and I believe that's coming; for I've prayedthe Lord, and I believe he will give it to me. I want it for otherpeople too. I often think, when I am looking at somebody, of thosewords--'If thou knewest the gift of God, thou wouldest have asked ofhim, and he would have given thee living water. '"

With that, Mrs. Mathieson cast down her book and burst into such apassion of weeping that Nettie was frightened. It was like the breakingup of an icy winter. She flung her apron over her head and sobbed aloud;till hearing the steps of the men upon the staircase she rushed off toBarry's room, and presently got quiet, for she came out to supper as ifnothing had happened. 

From that time there was a gentler mood upon her mother, Nettie saw;though she looked weary and careworn as ever, there was not now oftenthe hard, dogged look which had been wont to be there for months past. Nettie had no difficulty to get her to read the Testament; and of allthings, what she liked was to get a quiet hour of an evening alone withNettie and hear her sing hymns. But both Nettie and she had a greatdeal, as Mrs. Mathieson said, "to put up with. "

As weeks went on, the father of the family was more and more out atnights, and less and less agreeable when he was at home. He and hisfriend Lumber helped each other in mischief: they went together toJackson's shop and spent time in lounging and gossiping and talkingpolitics there; and what was worse, they made the time and the politicsgo down with draughts of liquor. Less and less money came to Mrs. Mathieson's hand; but her husband always required what he called a goodmeal to be ready for him and his lodger whenever he came home, and madeno difference in his expectations whether he had provided the means ornot. The lodger's rent and board had been at first given for thehousehold daily expenses; but then Mr. Mathieson began to pay over asmaller sum, saying that it was all that was due; and Mrs. Mathiesonsuspected that the rest had been paid away already for brandy. Then Mr. Mathieson told her to trade at Jackson's on account, and he would settlethe bill. Mrs. Mathieson held off from this as long as it was possible. She and Nettie did their very best to make the little that was giventhem go a good way; they wasted not a crumb nor a penny, and did notspend on themselves what they really wanted; that they might not havethe fearful storm of anger which was sure to come if the dinner was notplentiful and the supper did not please the taste of Mr. Mathieson andhis lodger. By degrees it came to be very customary for Mrs. Mathiesonand Nettie to make their meal of porridge and bread, after all the moresavoury food had been devoured by the others; and many a weary patch anddarn filled the night hours because they had not money to buy a cheapdress or two. Nettie bore it very patiently. Mrs. Mathieson wassometimes impatient. 

"This wont last me through the week, to get the things you want, " shesaid one Saturday to her husband, when he gave her what he said wasLumber's payment to him. 

"You'll have to make it last, " said he, gruffly. 

"Will you tell me how I'm going to do that? Here isn't more than halfwhat you gave me at first. "

"Send to Jackson's for what you want!" he roared at her; "didn't I tellyou so? and don't come bothering me with your noise. "

"When will you pay Jackson?"

"I'll pay you first!" he said, with an oath, and very violently. It wasa ruder word than he had ever said to her before, and Mrs. Mathieson wasstaggered for a moment by it; but there was another word she wasdetermined to say. 

"You may do what you like to me, " she said, doggedly; "but I shouldthink you would see for yourself that Nettie has too much to get alongwith. She is getting just as thin and pale as she can be. "

"That's just your fool's nonsense!" said Mr. Mathieson; but he spoke itmore quietly. Nettie just then entered the room. 

"Here, Nettie, what ails you? Come here. Let's look at you. Aint you asstrong as ever you was? Here's your mother says you're getting puny. "

Nettie's smile and answer were so placid and untroubled, and the littlecolour that rose in her cheeks at her father's question made her look sofresh and well, that he was quieted. He drew her to his arms, for hisgentle dutiful little daughter had a place in his respect and affectionboth, though he did not often show it very broadly; but now he kissedher. 

"There!" said he; "don't you go to growing thin and weak without tellingme, for I don't like such doings. You tell me when you want anything. "But with that, Mr. Mathieson got up and went off, out of the house; andNettie had small chance to tell him if she wanted anything. However, this little word and kiss were a great comfort and pleasure to her. Itwas the last she had from him in a good while. 

Nettie, however, was not working for praise or kisses, and very littleof either she got. Generally her father was rough, imperious, impatient, speaking fast enough if anything went wrong, but very sparingin expressions of pleasure. Sometimes a blessing did come upon her fromthe very depth of Mrs. Mathieson's heart, and went straight to Nettie's;but it was for another blessing she laboured, and prayed, and waited. 

So weeks went by. So her patient little feet went up and down the stairswith pails of water from the spring; and her hands made bread and bakedcakes, and set rooms in order; and it was Nettie always who went to Mr. Jackson's for meal and treacle, and to Mrs. Auguste's, the littleFrenchwoman's, as she was called, for a loaf when they were now and thenout of bread. And with her mornings spent at school, Nettie's days werevery busy ones; and the feet that at night mounted the steps to herattic room were aching and tired enough. All the more that now Nettieand her mother lived half the time on porridge; all the provisionthey dared make of other things being quite consumed by the three heartyappetites that were before them at the meal. And Nettie's appetite wasnot at all hearty, and sometimes she could hardly eat at all. 

As the summer passed away it began to grow cold, too, up in her garret. Nettie had never thought of that. As long as the summer sun warmed theroof well in the day, and only the soft summer wind played in and out ofher window at night, it was all very well; and Nettie thought hersleeping-chamber was the best in the whole house, for it was nearest thesky. But August departed with its sunny days, and September grew cool atevening; and October brought still sunny days, it is true, but thenights had a clear sharp frost in them; and Nettie was obliged to coverherself up warm in bed and look at the moonlight and the stars as shecould see them through the little square opening left by the shutter. The stars looked very lovely to Nettie, when they peeped at her so, inher bed, out of their high heaven; and she was very content. 

Then came November; and the winds began to come into the garret, notonly through the open window, but through every crack between twoboards. The whole garret was filled with the winds, Nettie thought. Itwas hard managing then. Shutting the shutter would bar out the stars, but not the wind, she found; and to keep from being quite chilledthrough at her times of prayer morning and evening, Nettie used to takethe blanket and coverlets from the bed and wrap herself in them. It wasall she could do. Still, she forgot the inconveniences; and her littlegarret chamber seemed to Nettie very near heaven, as well as near thesky. 

But all this way of life did not make her grow strong, nor rosy; andthough Nettie never told her father that she wanted anything, hermother's heart measured the times when it ought to be told. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE BROWN CLOAK IN NOVEMBER. 

November days drew toward an end; December was near. One afternoon Mrs. Mathieson, wanting Nettie, went to the foot of the garret stairs to callher, and stopped, hearing Nettie's voice singing. It was a clear, bird-like voice, and Mrs. Mathieson listened; at first she could notdistinguish the words, but then came a refrain which was plain enough. 

 "Glory, glory, glory, glory, Glory be to God on high, Glory, glory, glory, glory, Sing his praises through the sky; Glory, glory, glory, glory, Glory to the Father give, Glory, glory, glory, glory, Sing his praises all that live. "

Mrs. Mathieson's heart gave way. She sat down on the lowest step andcried, for very soreness of heart. But work must be done; and when thesong had ceased, for it went on some time, Mrs. Mathieson wiped hertears with her apron and called, "Nettie!"

"Yes, mother. Coming. "

"Fetch down your school-cloak, child. "

She went back to her room, and presently Nettie came in with the cloak, looking placid as usual, but very pale. 

"Are you singing up there to keep yourself warm, child?"

"Well, mother, I don't know but it does, " Nettie answered, smiling. "Mygarret did seem to me full of glory just now; and it often does, mother. "

"The Lord save us!" exclaimed Mrs. Mathieson, bursting into tears again. "I believe you're in a way to be going above, before my face!"

"Now, mother, what sort of a way is that of talking?" said Nettie, looking troubled. "You know I can't die till Jesus bids me; and I don'tthink he is going to take me now. What did you want me to do?"

"Nothing. You aint fit. I must go and do it myself. "

"Yes I am fit. I like to do it, " said Nettie. "What is it, mother?"

"Somebody's got to go to Mr. Jackson's--but you aint fit, child; you eatnext to none at noon. You can't live on porridge. "

"I like it, mother; but I wasn't hungry. What's wanting from Jackson's?"

Nettie put on her cloak, and took her basket and went out. It was aftersundown already, and a keen wind swept through the village street, andswept through Nettie's brown cloak too, tight as she wrapped it abouther. But though she was cold and blue, and the wind seemed to go through_her_ as well as the cloak, Nettie was thinking of something else. Sheknew that her mother had eaten a very scanty, poor sort of dinner, aswell as herself, and that _she_ often looked pale and wan; and Nettiewas almost ready to wish she had not given the last penny of hershilling, on Sunday, to the missionary-box. When her father had givenher the coin, she had meant then to keep it to buy something now andthen for her mother; but it was not immediately needed, and one by onethe pennies had gone to buy tracts, or as a mite to the fund for sendingBibles or missionaries to those who did not know how to sing Nettie'ssong of "glory. "

She wondered to herself now if she had done quite right; she could nothelp thinking that if she had one penny she could buy a smoked herring, which, with a bit of bread and tea, would make a comfortable supper forher mother, which she could relish. Had she done right? But one morethought of the children and grown people who have not the Bible, --whoknow nothing of the golden city with its gates of pearl, and are nowisefit to enter by those pure entrances where "nothing that defileth" cango in, --and Nettie wished no more for a penny back that she had given tobring them there. She hugged herself in her cloak, and as she went quickalong the darkening ways, the light from that city seemed to shine inher heart and make warmth through the cold. She was almost sorry to goto Mr. Jackson's shop; it had grown rather a disagreeable place to herlately. It was half full of people, as usual at that hour. 

"What do you want?" said Mr. Jackson, rather curtly, when Nettie's turncame and she had told her errand. "What!" he exclaimed, "seven pounds ofmeal and a pound of butter, and two pounds of sugar! Well, you tell yourfather that I should like to have my bill settled; it's all drawn up, you see, and I don't like to open a new account till it's all square. "

He turned away immediately to another customer, and Nettie felt she hadgot her answer. She stood a moment, very disappointed, and a littlemortified, and somewhat downhearted. What should they do for supper? andwhat a storm there would be when her father heard about all this andfound nothing but bread and tea on the table. Slowly Nettie turned away, and slowly made the few steps from the door to the corner. She felt veryblue indeed; coming out of the warm store the chill wind made hershiver. Just at the corner somebody stopped her. 

"Nettie!" said the voice of the little French baker, "what ails you? youlook not well. "

Nettie gave her a grateful smile, and said she was well. 

"You look not like it, " said Mme. Auguste; "you look as if the windmight carry you off before you get home. Come to my house--I want to seeyou in the light. "

"I haven't time; I must go home to mother, Mrs. August. "

"Yes, I know! You will go home all the faster for coming this way first. You have not been to see me in these three or four weeks. "

She carried Nettie along with her; it was but a step, and Nettie did notfeel capable of resisting anything. The little Frenchwoman put her intothe shop before her, made her sit down, and lighted a candle. The shopwas nice and warm and full of the savoury smell of fresh baking. 

"We have made our own bread lately, " said Nettie, in answer to thecharge of not coming there. 

"Do you make it good?" said Mme. Auguste. 

"It isn't like yours, Mrs. August, " said Nettie, smiling. 

"If you will come and live with me next summer, I will teach you how todo some things; and you shall not look so blue neither. Have you hadyour supper?"

"No, and I am just going home to get supper. I must go, Mrs. August. "

"You come in here, " said the Frenchwoman; "you are my prisoner. I am allalone, and I want somebody for company. You take off your cloak, Nettie, and I shall give you something to keep the wind out. You do what I bidyou!"

Nettie felt too cold and weak to make any ado about complying, unlessduty had forbade; and she thought there was time enough yet. She let hercloak drop, and took off her hood. The little back room to which Mme. Auguste had brought her was only a trifle bigger than the bit of a shop;but it was as cozy as it was little. A tiny stove warmed it, and keptwarm, too, a tiny iron pot and tea-kettle which were steaming away. Thebed was at one end, draped nicely with red curtains; there was a littlelooking-glass, and some prints in frames round the walls; there wasMadame's little table covered with a purple cloth, and with her work anda small clock and various pretty things on it. Mme. Auguste had gone toa cupboard in the wall, and taken out a couple of plates and littlebowls, which she set on a little round stand; and then lifting the coverof the pot on the stove, she ladled out a bowlful of what was in it, andgave it to Nettie with one of her own nice crisp rolls. 

"Eat that!" she said. "I shan't let you go home till you have swallowedthat to keep the cold out. It makes me all freeze to look at you. "

So she filled her own bowl, and made good play with her spoon, whilebetween spoonfuls she looked at Nettie; and the good little woman smiledin her heart to see how easy it was for Nettie to obey her. The savoury, simple, comforting broth she had set before her was the best thing tothe child's delicate stomach that she had tasted for many a day. 

"Is it good?" said the Frenchwoman when Nettie's bowl was half empty. 

"It's so good!" said Nettie. "I didn't know I was so hungry. "

"Now you will not feel the cold so, " said the Frenchwoman, "and you willgo back quicker. Do you like my _riz-au-gras_?"

"_What_ is it, ma'am?" said Nettie. 

The Frenchwoman laughed, and made Nettie say it over till she couldpronounce the words. "Now you like it, " she said; "that is a Frenchdish. Do you think Mrs. Mat'ieson would like it?"

"I am sure she would!" said Nettie. "But I don't know how to make it. "

"You shall come here and I will teach it to you. And now you shall carrya little home to your mother and ask her if she will do the honour to aFrench dish to approve it. It do not cost anything. I cannot sell muchbread the winters; I live on what cost me nothing. "

While saying this, Mme. Auguste had filled a little pail with the_riz-au-gras_, and put a couple of her rolls along with it. "It musthave the French bread, " she said; and she gave it to Nettie, who lookedquite cheered up, and very grateful. 

"You are a good little girl!" she said. "How keep you always your facelooking so happy? There is always one little streak of sunshinehere"--drawing her finger across above Nettie's eyebrows--"and anotherhere, "--and her finger passed over the line of Nettie's lips. 

"That's because I _am_ happy, Mrs. August. "

"_Always?_"

"Yes, always. "

"What makes you so happy always? you was just the same in the coldwinter out there, as when you was eating my _riz-au-gras_. Now me, I amcross in the cold, and not happy. "

But the Frenchwoman saw a deeper light come into Nettie's eyes as sheanswered, "It is because I love the Lord Jesus, Mrs. August, and hemakes me happy. "

"_You?_" said Madame. "My child!--What do you say, Nettie? I think not Ihave heard you right. "

"Yes, Mrs. August, I am happy because I love the Lord Jesus. I know heloves me, and he will take me to be with him. "

"Not just yet, " said the Frenchwoman, "I hope! Well, I wish I was sohappy as you, Nettie. Good-bye!"

Nettie ran home, more comforted by her good supper, and more thankful tothe goodness of God in giving it, and happy in the feeling of hisgoodness than can be told. And very, very glad she was of that littletin pail in her hand she knew her mother needed. Mrs. Mathieson had timeto eat the rice broth before her husband came in. 

"She said she would show me how to make it, " said Nettie, "and it don'tcost anything. "

"Why, it's just rice and--_what_ is it? I don't see, " said Mrs. Mathieson. "It isn't rice and milk. "

Nettie laughed at her mother. "Mrs. August didn't tell. She called itreeso---- I forget what she called it!"

"It's the best thing I ever saw, " said Mrs. Mathieson. "There--put thepail away. Your father's coming. "

He was in a terrible humour, as they expected; and Nettie and her motherhad a sad evening of it. And the same sort of thing lasted for severaldays. Mrs. Mathieson hoped that perhaps Mr. Lumber would take into hishead to seek lodgings somewhere else; or at least that Mathieson wouldhave been shamed into paying Jackson's bill; but neither thing happened. Mr. Lumber found his quarters too comfortable; and Mr. Mathieson spenttoo much of his earnings on drink to find the amount necessary to clearoff the scores at the grocer's shop. 

From that time, as they could run up no new account, the family wereobliged to live on what they could immediately pay for. That was seldoma sufficient supply; and so, in dread of the storms that came whenevertheir wants touched Mr. Mathieson's own comfort, Nettie and her motherdenied themselves constantly what they very much needed. The old cansometimes bear this better than the young. Nettie grew more delicate, more thin, and more feeble, every day. It troubled her mother sadly. Mr. Mathieson could not be made to see it. Indeed he was little at homeexcept when he was eating. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE NEW BLANKET. 

Nettie had been in Barry's room one evening, putting it to rights;through the busy day it had somehow been neglected. Mrs. Mathieson'sheart was so heavy that her work dragged; and when Nettie came out andsat down to her Sunday-school lesson, her mother kept watching her for along time with a dull, listless face, quite still and idle. The child'sface was busy over her Bible, and Mrs. Mathieson did not disturb her, till Nettie lifted her head to glance at the clock. Then the bitternessof her mother's heart broke out. 

"He's a ruined man!" she exclaimed, in her despair. "He's a ruined man!he's taking to drinking more and more. It's all over with him--and withus. "

"No, mother, " said Nettie, gently, --"I hope not. There's better timescoming, mother. God _never_ forsakes those that trust in him. He haspromised to hear prayer; and I have prayed to him, and I feel sure hewill save us. "

Mrs. Mathieson was weeping bitterly. 

"So don't you cry, mother. Trust! 'Only believe'--don't you rememberJesus said that? Just believe him, mother. I do. "

And proving how true she spoke--how steadfast and firm was the faith sheprofessed, with that, as Nettie got up to put away her books, her lipsburst forth into song; and never more clear nor more sweet than she sungthen, sounded the wild sweet notes that belong to the words--favouriteswith her. There was no doubt in her voice at all. 

 "Great spoils I shall win, from death, hell, and sin, 'Midst outward afflictions shall feel Christ within; And when I'm to die, Receive me, I'll cry; For Jesus hath loved me, I cannot tell why. "

Mrs. Mathieson sobbed at first; but there came a great quietness overher; and as the clear beautiful strain came to an end, she rose up, threw her apron over her face, and knelt quietly down by the side ofher bed; putting her face in her hands. Nettie stood and looked at her;then turned and went up the stair to her own praying-place; feeling inher heart as if instead of two weary feet she had had "wings as angels, "to mount up literally. She knew that part of her prayer was getting itsanswer. She knew by the manner of her mother, that it was in nobitterness and despair but in the humbleness of a bowed heart that shehad knelt down; and Nettie's slow little feet kept company with a mostbounding spirit. She went to bed and covered herself up, not to sleep, but because it was too cold to be in the garret a moment uncovered; andlay there broad awake, "making melody in her heart to the Lord. "

It was very cold up in Nettie's garret now; the winter had moved on intothe latter part of December, and the frosts were very keen; and thewinter winds seem to come in at one end of the attic and to just sweepthrough to the other, bringing all except the snow with them. Even thesnow often drifted in through the cracks of the rough wainscot board, or under the shutter, and lay in little white streaks or heaps on thefloor, and never melted. To-night there was no wind, and Nettie had lefther shutter open that she might see the stars as she lay in bed. It didnot make much difference in the feeling of the place, for it was aboutas cold inside as out; and the stars were great friends of Nettie. To-night she lay and watched them, blinking down at her through hergarret window with their quiet eyes; they were always silent witnessesto her of the beauty and purity of heaven, and reminders too of that eyethat never sleeps and that hand that planted and upholds all. How brightthey looked down to-night! It was very cold, and lying awake made Nettiecolder; she shivered sometimes under all her coverings; still she laylooking at the stars in that square patch of sky that her shutteropening gave her to see, and thinking of the golden city. "They shallhunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light onthem, nor any heat. For the lamb which is in the midst of the throneshall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters:and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. " "There shall be nomore curse; but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it, andhis servants shall serve him. "

"His servants shall serve him"--thought Nettie; "and mother will bethere, --and father will be there, and Barry, --and I shall be there! andthen I shall be happy. And I am happy now. 'Blessed be the Lord, whichhath not turned away my prayer, nor his mercy from me!'"--And if thatverse went through Nettie's head once, it did fifty times. So did thisone, which the quiet stars seemed to repeat and whisper to her, "TheLord redeemeth the soul of his servants, and none of them that trust inhim shall be desolate. " And though now and then a shiver passed overNettie's shoulders, with the cold, she was ready to sing for verygladness and fulness of heart. 

But lying awake and shivering did not do Nettie's little body any good;she looked so very white the next day, that it caught even Mr. Mathieson's attention. He reached out his arm and drew Nettie towardhim, as she was passing between the cupboard and the table. Then helooked at her, but he did not say how she looked. 

"Do you know day after to-morrow is Christmas day?" said he. 

"Yes, I know. It's the day when Christ was born, " said Nettie. 

"Well, I don't know anything about that, " said her father; "but what Imean is, that a week after is New Year. What would you like me to giveyou, Nettie, --hey?"

Nettie stood still for a moment, then her eyes lighted up. 

"Will you give it to me, father, if I tell you?"

"I don't know. If it is not extravagant, perhaps I will. "

"It will not cost much, " said Nettie, earnestly. "Will you give me whatI choose, father, if it does not cost too much?"

"I suppose I will. What is it?"

"Father, you wont be displeased?"

"Not I!" said Mr. Mathieson, drawing Nettie's little form tighter in hisgrasp; he thought he had never felt it so slight and thin before. 

"Father, I am going to ask you a great thing!--to go to church with meNew Year's day. "

"To church!" said her father, frowning; but he remembered his promise, and he felt Nettie in his arms yet. "What on earth good will that doyou?"

"A great deal of good. It would please me so much, father. "

"What do you want me to go to church for?" said Mr. Mathieson, not sureyet what humour he was going to be in. 

"To thank God, father, that there was a Christmas; when Jesus came, thatwe might have a New Year. "

"What? what?" said Mr. Mathieson. "What are you talking about?"

"Because, father, " said Nettie, trembling, and seizing her chance, "since Jesus loved us and came and died for us, we all may have a NewYear of glory. I shall, father; and I want you too. Oh do, father!" andNettie burst into tears. Mr. Mathieson held her fast, and his faceshowed a succession of changes for a minute or so. But she presentlyraised her head from his shoulder, where it had sunk, and kissed him, and said--

"May I have what I want, father?"

"Yes--go along, " said Mr. Mathieson. "I should like to know how torefuse you, though. But, Nettie, don't you want me to give you anythingelse?"

"Nothing else!" she told him, with her face all shining with joy. Mr. Mathieson looked at her and seemed very thoughtful all supper time. 

"Can't you strengthen that child up a bit?" he said to his wifeafterwards. "She does too much. "

"She does as little as I can help, " said Mrs. Mathieson; "but she isalways at something. I am afraid her room is too cold o' nights. Sheaint fit to bear it. It's bitter up there. "

"Give her another blanket or quilt, then, " said her husband. "I shouldthink you would see to that. Does she say she is cold?"

"No, --never except sometimes when I see her looking blue, and ask her. "

"And what does she say then?"

"She says sometimes she is a little cold. "

"Well, do put something more over her, and have no more of it!" said herhusband, violently. "Sit still and let the child be cold, when anothercovering would make it all right!" And he ended with swearing at her. 

Mrs. Mathieson did not dare to tell him that Nettie's food was not of asufficiently nourishing and relishing kind; she knew what the answer tothat would be; and she feared that a word more about Nettie'ssleeping-room would be thought an attack upon Mr. Lumber's being in thehouse. So she was silent. 

But there came home something for Nettie in the course of the Christmasweek, which comforted her a little, and perhaps quieted Mr. Mathiesontoo. He brought with him, on coming home to supper one evening, a greatthick roll of a bundle, and put it in Nettie's arms, telling her thatwas for her New Year. 

"For me!" said Nettie, the colour starting a little into her cheeks. 

"Yes, for you. Open it, and see. "

So Nettie did, with some trouble, and there tumbled out upon the floor agreat heavy warm blanket, new from the shop. Mr. Mathieson thought thepink in her cheeks was the prettiest thing he had seen in a long while. 

"Is this for _me_, father?"

"I mean it to be so. See if it will go on that bed of yours and keep youwarm. "

Nettie gave her father some very hearty thanks, which he took in asilent, pleased way; and then she hastened off with her blanketupstairs. How thick and warm it was! and how nicely it would keep hercomfortable when she knelt, all wrapped up in it, on that cold floor. For a little while it would; not even a warm blanket would keep her fromthe cold more than a little while at a time up there. But Nettie triedits powers the first thing she did. 

Did Mr. Mathieson mean the blanket to take the place of his promise?Nettie thought of that, but like a wise child she said nothing at alltill the Sunday morning came. Then, before she set off forSunday-school, she came to her father's elbow. 

"Father, I'll be home a quarter after ten; will you be ready then?"

"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson. 

"For my New Year's, " said Nettie. "You know you promised I should go tochurch with you. "

"Did I? And aint you going to take the blanket for your New Year's, andlet me off, Nettie?"

"No, father, to be sure not. I'll be home at a quarter past; pleasedon't forget. " And Nettie went off to school very thankful and happy, for her father's tone was not unkind. How glad she was New Year's dayhad come on Sunday. 

Mr. Mathieson was as good as his word. He was ready at the time, andthey walked to the church together. That was a great day to Nettie. Herfather and mother going to church in company with her and with eachother. But nobody that saw her sober sweet little face would haveguessed how very full her heart was of prayer, even as they walked alongthe street among the rest of the people. And when they got to church, itseemed as if every word of the prayers and of the reading and of thehymns and of the sermon, struck on all Nettie's nerves of hearing andfeeling. Would her father understand any of those sweet words? would hefeel them? would they reach him? Nettie little thought that what he feltmost, what _did_ reach him, though he did not thoroughly understand it, was the look of her own face; though she never but once dared turn ittoward him. There was a little colour in it more than usual; her eye wasdeep in its earnestness; and the grave set of her little mouth wasbroken up now and then in a way that Mr. Mathieson wanted to watchbetter than the straight sides of her sun-bonnet would let him. Once hethought he saw something more. 

He walked home very soberly, and was a good deal on the silent orderduring the rest of the day. He did not go to church in the afternoon. But in the evening, as her mother was busy in and out getting supperready, and Mr. Lumber had not come in, Mr. Mathieson called Nettie tohis side. 

"What was you crying for in church this forenoon?" he said, low. 

"Crying!" said Nettie, surprised. "Was I crying?"

"If it wasn't tears I saw dropping from under your hands on to thefloor, it must have been some drops of rain that had got there, and Idon't see how they could very well. There warn't no rain outside. Whatwas it for, hey?"

There came a great flush all over Nettie's face, and she did not at oncespeak. 

"Hey?--what was it for?"--repeated Mr. Mathieson. 

The flush passed away. Nettie spoke very low and with lips all of aquiver. "I remember. I was thinking, father, how 'all things areready'--and I couldn't help wishing that you were ready too. "

"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson, somewhat roughly. "All thingsready for what?"

"Ready for you, " said Nettie. "Jesus is ready to love you, and callsyou--and the angels are ready to rejoice for you--and I----"

"Go on! What of you?"

Nettie lifted her eyes to him. "I am ready to rejoice too, father. " Butthe time of rejoicing was not yet. Nettie burst into tears. 

Mr. Mathieson was not angry, yet he flung away from her with a rude"Pshaw!" and that was all the answer she got. But the truth was, thatthere was something in Nettie's look, of tenderness, and purity, andtrembling hope, that her father's heart could not bear to meet; and whatis more, that he was never able to forget. 

Nettie went about her evening business helping her mother, and keepingback the tears which were very near again; and Mr. Mathieson began totalk with Mr. Lumber, and everything was to all appearance just as ithad been hitherto. And so it went on after that. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE HOUSE-RAISING. [2]

[2] A festival common in America on the completion of a house. 

It grew colder and colder in Nettie's garret--or else she grew thinnerand felt it more. She certainly thought it was colder. The snow came, and piled a thick covering on the roof and stopped up some of the chinksin the clapboarding with its white caulking; and that made the place alittle better; then the winds from off the snow-covered country werekeen and bitter. 

Nettie's whole day was so busy that she had little time to think, exceptwhen she went upstairs at night; covered up there under her blankets andquilts, and looking up at the stars, she used to feel sadly that thingswere in a very bad way. Her father was out constantly o' nights, andthey knew too surely where he spent them. He was not a confirmeddrunkard yet; but how long would it take, at this rate? And that manLumber leading him on, with a thicker head himself, and Barry followingafter! No seeming thought nor care for his wife and daughter and theircomfort; it was with great difficulty they could get from him enoughmoney for their daily needs; and to make that do, Nettie and her motherpinched and starved themselves. Often and often Nettie went to bed withan empty stomach, because she was not hearty enough to eat porridge orpork, and the men had not left enough of other viands for herself andher mother. And neither of them would pretend to want that little therewas, for fear the other wanted it more. 

Her mother was patient and quiet now; not despairing, as a few monthsago; and that was such joy to Nettie that she felt often much more likegiving thanks than complaining. Yet she saw her mother toiling andinsufficiently cared for, and she went to bed feeling very poor and thinherself; then Nettie used to look at the stars and remember the Lord'spromises and the golden city, till at last she would go to sleep uponher pillow feeling the very richest little child in all the country. "They shall not be ashamed that wait for me"--was one word which wasvery often the last in her thoughts. Nettie had no comfort from herfather in all the time between New Year and spring. Except one word. 

One morning she went to Barry secretly in his room, and asked him tobring the pail of water from the spring for her. Barry had no mind tothe job. 

"Why can't mother do it?" he said, "if you can't?"

"Mother is busy and hasn't a minute. I always do it for her. "

"Well, why can't you go on doing it? you're accustomed to it, you see, and I don't like going out so early, " said Barry, stretching himself. 

"I would, and I wouldn't ask you; only, Barry, somehow I don't think I'mquite strong lately and I can hardly bring the pail, it's so heavy tome. I have to stop and rest ever so many times before I can get to thehouse with it. "

"Well, if you stop and rest, I suppose it wont hurt you, " said Barry. "_I_ should want to stop and rest, too, myself. "

His little sister was turning away, giving it up; when she was met byher father who stepped in from the entry. He looked red with anger. 

"You take the pail and go get the water!" said he to his son; "and youhear me! don't you let Nettie bring in another pailful when you're athome, or I'll turn you out of the house. You lazy scoundrel! You don'tdeserve the bread you eat. Would you let her work for you, when you areas strong as sixty?"

Barry's grumbled words in answer were so very unsatisfactory, that Mr. Mathieson in a rage advanced toward him with uplifted fist; but Nettiesprang in between and very nearly caught the blow that was meant for herbrother. 

"Please, father, don't!" she cried; "please, father, don't be angry. Barry didn't think--he didn't"--

"Why didn't he?" said Mr. Mathieson. "Great lazy rascal! He wants to beflogged. "

"Oh don't!" said Nettie, --"he didn't know why I asked him, or hewouldn't have refused me. "

"Why did you, then?"

"Because it made my back ache so to bring it, I couldn't help askinghim. "

"Did you ever ask him before?"

"Never mind, please, father!" said Nettie, sweetly. "Just don't thinkabout me, and don't be angry with Barry. It's no matter now. "

"Who does think about you? Your mother don't, or she would have seen tothis before. "

"Mother didn't know my back ached. Father, you know she hasn't a minute, she is so busy getting breakfast in time; and she didn't know I wasn'tstrong enough. Father, don't tell her, please, I asked Barry. It wouldworry her so. Please don't, father. "

"_You_ think of folks, anyhow. You're a regular peacemaker!" exclaimedMr. Mathieson as he turned away and left her. Nettie stood still, theflush paling on her cheek, her hand pressed to her side. 

"Am I that?" she thought. "Shall I be that? Oh Lord, my Saviour, my dearRedeemer, send thy peace here!"--She was still in the same place andposition when Barry came in again. 

"It's wretched work!" he exclaimed, under his breath, for his father wasin the next room. "It's as slippery as the plague, going down that pathto the water--it's no use to have legs, for you can't hold up. I'm allfroze stiff with the water I've spilled on me!"

"I know it's very slippery, " said Nettie. 

"And then you can't get at the water when you're there, without steppinginto it--it's filled chuck full of snow and ice all over the edge. It'sthe most wretched work!"

"I know it, Barry, " said Nettie. "I am sorry you have to do it. "

"What did you make me do it for, then?" said he, angrily. "You got ityour own way this time, but never mind, --I'll be up with you for it. "

"Barry, " said his sister, "please do it just a little while for me, tillI get stronger, and don't mind; and as soon as ever I can I'll do itagain. But you don't know how it made me ache all through, bringing thepail up that path. "

"Stuff!" said Barry. And from that time, though he did not fail to bringthe water in the morning, yet Nettie saw he owed her a grudge for it allthe day afterward. He was almost always away with his father, and shehad little chance to win him to better feeling. 

So the winter slowly passed and the spring came. Spring months came, atleast; and now and then to be sure a sweet spring day, when all naturesoftened; the sun shone mildly, the birds sang, the air smelled sweetwith the opening buds. Those days were lovely, and Nettie enjoyed themno one can tell how much. On her walk to school, it was so pleasant tobe able to step slowly and not hasten to be out of the cold; andNettie's feet did not feel ready for quick work now-a-days. It was sopleasant to hear the sparrows and other small birds, and to see them, with their cheery voices and sonsy little heads, busy and happy. And thesoft air was very reviving too. 

Then at home the work was easier, a great deal; and in Nettie's garretthe change was wonderful. There came hours when she could sit on thegreat chest under her window and look out, or kneel there and pray, without danger of catching her death of cold; and instead of that, thebalmy perfumed spring breeze coming into her window, and the treesbudding, and the grass on the fields and hills beginning to look green, and the sunlight soft and vapoury. Such an hour--or quarter of anhour--to Nettie was worth a great deal. Her weary little frame seemed torest in it, and her mind rested too. For those days were full not onlyof the goodness of God, but of the promise of his goodness. Nettie readit, and thanked him. Yet things in the household were no better. 

One evening Nettie and her mother were sitting alone together. They wereusually alone in the evenings, though not usually sitting down quietlywith no work on hand. Nettie had her Sunday-school lesson, and was busywith that, on one side of the fire. Mrs. Mathieson on the other side satand watched her. After a while Nettie looked up and saw her mother'sgaze, no longer on her, fixed mournfully on the fire and looking throughthat at something else. Nettie read the look, and answered it after herown fashion. She closed her book and sang, to a very, very sweet, plaintive air, "I heard the voice of Jesus say, Come unto me and rest: Lay down, thou weary one, lay down Thy head upon my breast. I came to Jesus as I was, Weary, and worn, and sad, I found in him a resting-place, And he has made me glad. 

 "I heard the voice of Jesus say, I am this dark world's light; Look unto me--thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright. I looked to Jesus, and I found In him my star, my sun; And in that light of life I'll walk Till travelling days are done. "

She sang two verses, clear, glad, and sweet, as Nettie always sang;then she paused and looked at her mother. 

"Do you keep up hope yet, Nettie?" said Mrs. Mathieson, sadly. 

"Yes, mother, " Nettie said, quietly. 

"Mine gets beat out sometimes, " said Mrs. Mathieson, drooping her headfor an instant on her hands. "Your father's out every night now; and youknow where he goes; and he cares less and less about anything else inthe world but Jackson's store, and what he gets there, and the companyhe finds there. And he don't want much of being a ruined man. "

"Yes, mother. But the Bible says we must wait on the Lord. "

"Wait! yes, and I've waited; and I see you growing as thin as a shadowand as weak as a mouse; and your father don't see it; and he's let yousleep in that cold place up there all winter just to accommodate thatLumber!--I am sure he is well named. "

"O mother, my garret is nice now, --on the warm days. You can't think howpretty it is out of my window--prettier than any window in the house. "

"Outside, I dare say. It isn't a place fit for a cat to sleep on!"

"Mother, it's a good place to me. I don't want a better place. I don'tthink anybody else has a place that seems so good to me; for mother, Jesus is always there. "

"I expect there'll be nothing else but heaven good enough for you afterit!" said Mrs. Mathieson, with a sort of half sob. "I see you wastingaway before my very eyes. "

"Mother, " said Nettie, cheerfully, "how can you talk so? I feelwell--except now and then. "

"If your father could only be made to see it!--but he can't seeanything, nor hear anything. There's that house-raising to-morrow, Nettie--it's been on my mind this fortnight past, and it kills me. "

"Why, mother?"

"I know how it will be, " said Mrs. Mathieson; "they'll have a grandset-to after they get it up; and your father'll be in the first of it;and I somehow feel as if it would be the finishing of him. I wishalmost he'd get sick--or anything, to keep him away. They make such atime after a house-raising. "

"O mother, don't wish that, " said Nettie; but she began to think how itwould be possible to withdraw her father from the frolic with which theday's business would be ended. Mr. Mathieson was a carpenter, and a fineworkman; and always had plenty of work and was much looked up to amonghis fellows. 

Nettie began to think whether _she_ could make any effort to keep herfather from the dangers into which he was so fond of plunging; hithertoshe had done nothing but pray for him; could she do anything more, withany chance of good coming of it? She thought and thought; and resolvedthat she must try. It did not look hopeful; there was little she couldurge to lure Mr. Mathieson from his drinking companions; nothing, excepther own timid affection, and the one other thing it was possible tooffer him, --a good supper. How to get that was not so easy; but sheconsulted with her mother. 

Mrs. Mathieson said she used in her younger days to know how to makewaffles, [3] and Mr. Mathieson used to think they were the best thingsthat ever were made; now if Mrs. Moss, a neighbour, would lend herwaffle-iron, and she could get a few eggs, --she believed she couldmanage it still. "But we haven't the eggs, child, " she said; "and Idon't believe any power under heaven can get him to come away from thatraising frolic. "

[3] _Waffles_, a species of sweet-cake used on such festivals inAmerica. 

Nor did Nettie. It was to no power _under_ heaven that she trusted. Butshe must use her means. She easily got the iron from Mrs. Moss. Then sheborrowed the eggs from Mme. Auguste, who in Lent time always had them;then she watched with grave eyes and many a heart prayer the while, themixing and making of the waffles. 

"How do you manage the iron, mother?"

"Why it is made hot, " said Mrs. Mathieson, "very hot, and buttered; andthen when the batter is light you pour it in, and clap it together, andput it in the stove. "

"But how can you pour it in, mother? I don't see how you can fill theiron. "

"Why, you can't, child; you fill one half, and shut it together: andwhen it bakes it rises up and fills the other half. You'll see. "

The first thing Nettie asked when she came home from school in theafternoon was, if the waffles were light? She never saw any look better, Mrs. Mathieson said; "but I forgot, child, we ought to have cinnamon andwhite sugar to eat on them;--it was so that your father used to admirethem; they wont be waffles without sugar and cinnamon, I'm afraid he'llthink;--but I don't believe you'll get him home to think anything aboutthem. "

Mrs. Mathieson ended with a sigh. Nettie said nothing; she went roundthe room, putting it in particularly nice order; then set the table. When all that was right, she went up to her garret, and knelt down andprayed that God would take care of her and bless her errand. She putthe whole matter in the Lord's hands; then she dressed herself in herhood and cloak and went down to her mother. Mr. Mathieson had not comehome to dinner, being busy with the house-raising; so they had had noopportunity to invite him, and Nettie was now on her way to do it. 

"It's turned a bad afternoon; I'm afraid it aint fit for you to go, Nettie. "

"I don't mind, " said Nettie. "May be I'll get some sugar and cinnamon, mother, before I come back. "

"Well, you know where the raising is? it's out on the Shallonway road, on beyond Mrs. August's, a good bit. "

Nettie nodded, and went out; and as the door closed on her grave, sweetlittle face, Mrs. Mathieson felt a great strain on her heart. She wouldhave been glad to relieve herself by tears, but it was a dry pain thatwould not be relieved so. She went to the window, and looked out at theweather. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE WAFFLES. 

The early part of the day had been brilliant and beautiful; then, March-like, it had changed about, gathered up a whole sky-full ofclouds, and turned at last to snowing. The large feathery flakes werefalling now, fast; melting as fast as they fell; making everything wetand chill, in the air and under the foot. Nettie had no overshoes; shewas accustomed to get her feet wet very often, so that was nothing new. She hugged herself in her brown cloak, on which the beautiful snowflakesrested white a moment and then melted away, gradually wetting thecovering of her arms and shoulders in a way that would reach through byand by. Nettie thought little of it. What was she thinking of? She wascomforting herself with the thought of that strong and blessed Friendwho has promised to be always with his servants; and remembering hispromise--"they shall not be ashamed that wait for me. " What did the snowand the wet matter to Nettie? Yet she looked too much like a snow-flakeherself when she reached Mr. Jackson's store and went in. The whitefrosting had lodged all round her old black silk hood and even edged theshoulders of her brown cloak; and the white little face within lookedjust as pure. 

Mr. Jackson looked at her with more than usual attention; and whenNettie asked him if he would let her have a shilling's worth of finewhite sugar and cinnamon, and trust her till the next week for themoney, he made not the slightest difficulty; but measured or weighed itout for her directly, and even said he would trust her for more thanthat. So Nettie thanked him, and went on to the less easy part of hererrand. Her heart began to beat a little bit now. 

The feathery snowflakes fell thicker and made everything wetter thanever; it was very raw and chill, and few people were abroad. Nettie wenton, past the little bakewoman's house, and past all the thickly builtpart of the village. Then came houses more scattered; large handsomehouses with beautiful gardens and grounds and handsome garden palingsalong the roadside. Past one or two of these, and then there was a spaceof wild ground; and here Mr. Jackson was putting up a new house forhimself, and meant to have a fine place. The wild bushes grew in a thickhedge along by the fence, but over the tops of them Nettie could see thenew timbers of the frame that the carpenters had been raising that day. She went on till she came to an opening in the hedge and fence as well, and then the new building was close before her. The men were at workyet, finishing their day's business; the sound of hammering rung sharpon all sides of the frame; some were up on ladders, some were below. Nettie walked slowly up and then round the place, searching for herfather. At last she found him. He and Barry, who was learning hisfather's trade, were on the ground at one side of the frame, busy asbees. Talking was going on roundly too, as well as hammering, andNettie drew near and stood a few minutes without any one noticing her. She was not in a hurry to interrupt the work nor to tell her errand; shewaited. 

Barry saw her first, but ungraciously would not speak to her nor forher. If she was there for anything, he said to himself, it was for somespoil-sport; and one pail of water a day was enough for him. Mr. Mathieson was looking the other way. 

"I say, Mathieson, " called one of the men from the inside of the frame, "I s'pose 'taint worth carrying any of this stuff--Jackson'll haveenough without it?" The words were explained to Nettie's horror by a jugin the man's hands, which he lifted to his lips. 

"Jackson will do something handsome in that way to-night, " said Nettie'sfather; "or he'll not do as he's done by, such a confounded wet evening. But I've stood to my word, and I expect he'll stand to his'n. "

"He gave his word there was to be oysters, warn't it?" called anotherman from the top of the ladder. 

"Punch and oysters, " said Mathieson, hammering away, "or I've raisedthe last frame I ever _will_ raise, for him. I expect he'll stand it. "

"Oysters aint much count, " said another speaker. "I'd rather have aslice of good sweet pork any day. "

"Father, " said Nettie. She had come close up to him, but she trembled. What possible chance could she have?

"Hollo!" said Mr. Mathieson, turning suddenly. "Nettie!--what's to pay, girl?"

He spoke roughly, and Nettie saw that his face was red. She trembled allover, but she spoke as bravely as she could. 

"Father, I am come to invite you home to supper to-night. Mother and Ihave a particular reason to want to see you. Will you come?"

"Come where?" said Mr. Mathieson, but half understanding her. 

"Come home to tea, father. I came to ask you. Mother has made somethingyou like. "

"I'm busy, child. Go home. I'm going to supper at Jackson's. Go home. "He turned to his hammering again. But Nettie stood still in the snowand waited. 

"Father--" she said, after a minute, coming yet closer and speaking morelow. 

"What? Aint you gone?" exclaimed Mr. Mathieson. 

"Father, " said Nettie, softly, "mother has made waffles for you, --andyou used to like them so much, she says; and they are light andbeautiful and just ready to bake. Wont you come and have them with us?Mother says they'll be very nice. "

"Why didn't she make 'em another time, " grumbled Barry, --"when weweren't going to punch and oysters? That's a better game!"

If Mathieson had not been drinking he might have been touched by thesight of Nettie; so very white and delicate her little face looked, trembling and eager, within that border of her black hood on which thesnow crystals lay, a very doubtful and unwholesome embroidery. Shelooked as if she was going to melt and disappear like one of them; andperhaps Mr. Mathieson did feel the effect of her presence, but he feltit only to be vexed and irritated; and Barry's suggestion fell intoready ground. 

"I tell you, go home!" he said, roughly. "What are you doing here? Itell you I'm _not_ coming home--I'm engaged to supper to-night, and I'mnot going to miss it for any fool's nonsense. Go home!"

Nettie's lip trembled, but that was all the outward show of theagitation within. She would not have delayed to obey, if her father hadbeen quite himself; in his present condition she thought perhaps thenext word might undo the last; she could not go without another trial. She waited an instant and again said softly and pleadingly, "Father, I've been and got cinnamon and sugar for you, --all ready. "

"Cinnamon and sugar"--he cursed with a great oath; and turning gaveNettie a violent push from him, that was half a blow. "Go home!" herepeated--"go home! and mind your business; and don't take it upon youto mind mine. "

Nettie reeled, staggered, and coming blindly against one or two timbersthat lay on the ground, she fell heavily over them. Nobody saw her. Mr. Mathieson had not looked after giving her the push, and Barry had goneover to help somebody who called him. Nettie felt dizzy and sick; butshe picked herself up, and wet and downhearted took the road home again. She was sadly downhearted. Her little bit of a castle in the air hadtumbled all to pieces; and what was more, it had broken down upon her. Ahope, faint indeed, but a hope, had kept her up through all herexertions that day; she felt very feeble, now the hope was gone; andthat her father should have laid a rough hand on her, hurt her sorely. It hurt her bitterly; he had never done so before; and the cause why hecame to do it now, rather made it more sorrowful than less so toNettie's mind. 

She could not help a few salt tears from falling; and for a momentNettie's faith trembled. Feeling weak, and broken, and miserable, thethought came coldly across her mind, _would_ the Lord not hear her, after all? It was but a moment of faith-trembling, but it made hersick. There was more to do that; the push and fall over the timbers hadjarred her more than she knew at the moment. Nettie walked slowly backupon her road till she neared the shop of Mme. Auguste; then she feltherself growing very ill, and just reached the Frenchwoman's door tofaint away on her steps. 

She did not remain there two seconds. Mme. Auguste had seen her go by anhour before, and now sat at her window looking out to amuse herself, butwith a special intent to see and waylay that pale child on her repassingthe house. She saw the little black hood reappear, and started to openthe door, just in time to see Nettie fall down at her threshold. Asinstantly two willing arms were put under her, and lifted up the childand bore her into the house. Then Madame took off her hood, touched herlips with brandy and her brow with cologne water, and chafed her hands. She had lain Nettie on the floor of the inner room and put a pillowunder her head; the strength which had brought her so far having failedthere, and proved unequal to lift her again and put her on the bed. Nettie presently came to, opened her eyes, and looked at her nurse. 

"Why, my Nettie, " said the little woman, "what is this, my child? whatis the matter with you?"

"I don't know, " said Nettie, scarce over her breath. 

"Do you feel better now, _mon enfant_?"

Nettie did not, and did not speak. Mme. Auguste mixed a spoonful ofbrandy and water and made her take it. That revived her a little. 

"I must get up and go home, " were the first words she said. 

"You will lie still there, till I get some person to lift you on thebed, " said the Frenchwoman, decidedly. "I have not more strength than afly. What ails you, Nettie?"

"I don't know. "

"Take one spoonful more. What did you have for dinner to-day?"

"I don't know. But I must go home!" said Nettie, trying to raiseherself. "Mother will want me--she'll want me. "

"You will lie still, like a good child, " said her friend, gently puttingher back on her pillow;--"and I will find some person to carry youhome--or some person what will bring your mother here. I will go see ifI can find some one now. You lie still, Nettie. "

Nettie lay still, feeling weak after that exertion of trying to raiseherself. She was quite restored now, and her first thoughts were ofgrief, that she had for a moment, and under any discouragement, failedto trust fully the Lord's promises. She trusted them now. Let her fatherdo what he would, let things look as dark as they might, Nettie feltsure that "the rewarder of them that diligently seek him" had a blessingin store for her. Bible words, sweet and long loved and rested on, cameto her mind, and Nettie rested on them with perfect rest. "For he hathnot despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; neither hathhe hid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, _he heard_. " "Ourheart shall rejoice in him, _because we have trusted in his holy name_. "Prayer for forgiveness, and a thanksgiving of great peace, filledNettie's heart all the while the Frenchwoman was gone. 

Meanwhile Mme. Auguste had been looking into the street, and seeingnobody out in the wet snow, she rushed back to Nettie. Nettie was likeherself now, only very pale. 

"I must have cut my lip somehow, " she said; "there's blood on myhandkerchief. How did I come in here?"

"Blood!" said the Frenchwoman, --"where did you cut yourself, Nettie? Letme look!"

Which she did, with a face so anxious and eager that Nettie smiled ather. Her own brow was as quiet and placid as ever it was. 

"How did I get in here, Mrs. August?"

The Frenchwoman, however, did not answer her. Instead of which she wentto her cupboard and got a cup and spoon, and then from a little saucepanon the stove dipped out some riz-au-gras again. 

"What did you have for dinner, Nettie? you did not tell me. "

"Not much--I wasn't hungry, " said Nettie. "O, I must get up and go hometo mother. "

"You shall eat something first, " said her friend; and she raisedNettie's head upon another pillow, and began to feed her with the spoon. "It is good for you. You must take it. Where is your father? Don't talk, but tell me. I will do everything right. "

"He is at work on Mr. Jackson's new house. "

"Is he there to-day?"

"Yes. "

Mme. Auguste gave her all the "broth" in the cup, then bade her keepstill, and went to the shop window. It was time for the men to bequitting work, she knew; she watched for the carpenters to come. If theywere not gone by already!--how should she know? Even as she thoughtthis, a sound of rude steps and men's voices came from down the road;and the Frenchwoman went to her door and opened it. The men came along, a scattered group of four or five. 

"Is Mr. Mat'ieson there?" she said. Mme. Auguste hardly knew him bysight. "Men, I say! is Mr. Mat'ieson there?"

"George, that's you; you're wanted, " said one of the group, lookingback; and a fine-looking, tall man paused at Madame's threshold. 

"Are you Mr. Mat'ieson?" said the Frenchwoman. 

"Yes, ma'am. That's my name. "

"Will you come in? I have something to speak to you. Your littledaughter Nettie is very sick. "

"Sick!" exclaimed the man. "Nettie!--Where is she?"

"She is here. Hush! you must not say nothing to her, but she is verysick. She is come fainting at my door, and I have got her in here; butshe wants to go home, and I think you had better tell her she will notgo home, but she will stay here with me to-night. "

"Where is she?" said Mr. Mathieson; and he stepped in with so littleceremony that the mistress of the house gave way before him. He lookedround the shop. 

"She is not here--you shall see her--but you must not tell her she issick, " said the Frenchwoman, anxiously. 

"Where is she?" repeated Mr. Mathieson, with a tone and look which madeMme. Auguste afraid he would burst the doors if she did not open them. She opened the inner door without further preparation, and Mr. Mathiesonwalked in. By the fading light he saw Nettie lying on the floor at hisfeet. He was thoroughly himself now; sobered in more ways than one. Hestood still when he had got there, and spoke not a word. 

"Father, " said Nettie, softly. 

He stooped down over her. "What do you want, Nettie?"

"Can't I go home?"

"She must better not go home to-night!" began Mme. Auguste, earnestly. "It is so wet and cold! She will stay here with me to-night, Mr. Mat'ieson. You will tell her that it is best. "

But Nettie said, "_Please_ let me go home! mother will be so troubled. "She spoke little, for she felt weak; but her father saw her very eagerin the request. He stooped and put his strong arms under her, and liftedher up. 

"Have you got anything you can put over her?" he said, looking round theroom. "I'll fetch it back. "

Seeing that the matter was quite taken out of her hands, the kind littleFrenchwoman was very quick in her arrangements. She put on Nettie's heada warm hood of her own; then round her and over her she wrapped a thickwoollen counterpane, that to be sure would have let no snow through ifthe distance to be travelled had been twice as far. As she folded andarranged the thick stuff round Nettie's head, so as to shield even herface from the outer air, she said, half whispering--

"I would not tell nothing to mother about your lip; it is not much. Iwish I could keep you. Now she is ready, Mr. Mat'ieson. "

And Mr. Mathieson stalked out of the house, and strode along the roadwith firm, swift steps, till, past Jackson's, and past the turning, hecame to his own door, and carried Nettie upstairs. He never said a wordthe whole way. Nettie was too muffled up, and too feeble to speak; sothe first word was when he had come in and sat down in a chair, which hedid with Nettie still in his arms. Mrs. Mathieson, standing white andsilent, waited to see what was the matter; she had no power to ask aquestion. Her husband unfolded the counterpane that was wrapped roundNettie's head; and there she was, looking very like her usual self, onlyexceedingly pale. As soon as she caught sight of her mother's face, Nettie would have risen and stood up, but her father's arms held herfast. "What do you want, Nettie?" he asked. It was the first word. 

"Nothing, father, " said Nettie, "only lay me on the bed, please; andthen you and mother have supper. "

Mr. Mathieson took her to the bed and laid her gently down, removing thesnow-wet counterpane which was round her. 

"What is the matter?" faltered Mrs. Mathieson. 

"Nothing much, mother, " said Nettie, quietly; "only I was a little sick. Wont you bake the waffles and have supper?"

"What will _you_ have?" said her father. 

"Nothing--I've had something. I feel nicely now, " said Nettie. "Mother, wont you have supper, and let me see you?"

Mrs. Mathieson's strength had well-nigh deserted her; but Nettie'sdesire was urgent, and seeing that her husband had seated himself by thebedside, and seemed to have no idea of being anywhere but at home thatevening, she at length gathered up her faculties to do what was the bestthing to be done, and went about preparing the supper. Nettie's eyeswatched her, and Mr. Mathieson when he thought himself safe watched_her_. He did not look like the same man, so changed and sobered was theexpression of his face. Mrs. Mathieson was devoured by fear, even inobserving this; but Nettie was exceedingly happy. She did not feelanything but weakness: and she lay on her pillow watching the wafflesbaked and sugared, and then watching them eaten, wondering andrejoicing within herself at the way in which her father had been broughtto eat his supper there at home after all. She was the only one thatenjoyed anything, though her father and mother ate to please her. Mrs. Mathieson had asked an account of Nettie's illness, and got a veryunsatisfactory one. She had been faint, her husband said; he had foundher at Mrs. August's and brought her home; that was about all. Aftersupper he came and sat by Nettie again; and said she was to sleep there, and he would go up and take Nettie's place in the attic. Nettie in vainsaid she was well enough to go upstairs; her father cut the questionshort, and bade Mrs. Mathieson go up and get anything Nettie wanted. When she had left the room, he stooped his head down to Nettie and saidlow--

"What was that about your lip?"

Nettie started; she thought he would fancy it had been done, if done atall, when he gave her the push at the frame-house. But she did not, darenot, answer. She said it was only that she had found a little blood onher handkerchief, and supposed she might have cut her lip when she fellon Mrs. August's threshold, when she had fainted. 

"Show me your handkerchief, " said her father. Nettie obeyed. He lookedat it, and looked close at her lips, to find where they might have beenwounded; and Nettie was sorry to see how much he felt, for he evenlooked pale himself as he turned away from her. But he was as gentle andkind as he could be; Nettie had never seen him so; and when he went offup to bed and Nettie was drawn into her mother's arms to go to sleep, she was very, very happy. But she did not tell her hopes or her joys toher mother; she only told her thanks to the Lord; and that she did tillshe fell asleep. 

The next morning Nettie was well enough to get up and dress herself. That was all she was suffered to do by father or mother. Mr. Mathiesonsent Barry for water and wood, and himself looked after the fire whileMrs. Mathieson was busy; all the rest he did was to take Nettie in hisarms and sit holding her till breakfast was ready. He did not talk, andhe kept Barry quiet; he was like a different man. Nettie, feeling indeedvery weak, could only sit with her head on her father's shoulder, andwonder, and think, and repeat quiet prayers in her heart. She was verypale yet, and it distressed Mr. Mathieson to see that she could not eat. So he laid her on the bed, when he was going to his work, and told hershe was to stay there and be still, and he would bring her somethinggood when he came home. 

The day was strangely long and quiet to Nettie. Instead of going toschool and flying about at home doing all sorts of things, she lay onthe bed and followed her mother with her eyes as she moved about theroom at her work. The eyes often met Mrs. Mathieson's eyes; and onceNettie called her mother to her bedside. 

"Mother, what is the matter with you?"

Mrs. Mathieson stood still, and had some trouble to speak. At last shetold Nettie she was sorry to see her lying there and not able to be upand around. 

"Mother, " said Nettie, expressively, --"'There is rest for the weary. '"

"O Nettie, " said her mother, beginning to cry, --"you are all I havegot!--my blessed one!"

"Hush, mother, " said Nettie; "_I_ am not your blessed one, --you forget;and I am not all you have got. Where is Jesus, mother? O mother, 'restin the Lord!'"

"I don't deserve to, " said Mrs. Mathieson, trying to stop her tears. 

"I feel very well, " Nettie went on; "only weak, but I shall be welldirectly. And I am so happy, mother. Wont you go on and get dinner? andmother, just do that;--'rest in the Lord. '"

Nettie was not able to talk much, and Mrs. Mathieson checked herself andwent on with her work, as she begged. When her father came home at nighthe was as good as his word, and brought home some fresh oysters, that hethought would tempt Nettie's appetite; but it was much more to her thathe stayed quietly at home and never made a move toward going out. Eatingwas not in Nettie's line just now; the little kind Frenchwoman had beento see her in the course of the day and brought some delicious rolls anda jug of _riz-au-gras_, which was what seemed to suit Nettie's appetitebest of all. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE GOLDEN CITY. 

Several days went on; she did not feel sick, and she was a littlestronger; but appetite and colour were wanting. Her father would not lether do anything; he would not let her go up to her garret to sleep, though Nettie pleaded for it, fearing he must be uncomfortable. He saidit was fitter for him than for her, though he made faces about it. Healways came home and stayed at home now, and especially attended toNettie; his wages came home too, and he brought every day something totry to tempt her to eat; and he was quiet and grave and kind--not thesame person. 

Mrs. Mathieson in the midst of all her distress about Nettie began todraw some free breaths. But her husband thought only of his child;unless, perhaps, of himself; and drew none. Regularly after supper hewould draw Nettie to his arms and sit with her head on his shoulder;silent generally, only he would sometimes ask her what she would like. The first time he put this inquiry when Mr. Lumber was out of the way, Nettie answered by asking him to read to her. Mr. Mathieson hesitated alittle, not unkindly, and then read; a chapter in the Bible, of course, for Nettie wished to hear nothing else. And after that he often read toher; for Mr. Lumber kept up his old habits and preferred liveliercompany, and so was always out in the evenings. 

So several days passed; and when Saturday came, Mr. Mathieson lost halfa day's work and took a long walk to a farm where the people keptpigeons; and brought home one for Nettie's supper. However, she couldfancy but very little of it. 

"What shall I do for you?" said her father. "You go round like a shadow, and you don't eat much more. What shall I do that you would like?"

This time there was nobody in the room. Nettie lifted her head from hisshoulder and met his eyes. 

"If you would come to Jesus, father!"

"What?" said Mr. Mathieson. --"I don't know anything about that, Nettie. I aint fit. "

"Jesus will take you anyhow, father, if you will come. "

"We'll talk about that some other time, " said Mr. Mathieson, --"when youget well. "

"But suppose I don't get well, father?"

"Eh?----" said Mr. Mathieson, startled. 

"Perhaps I shan't get well, " said Nettie, her quiet, grave face notchanging in the least; "then I shall go to the golden city; and father, I shall be looking for you till you come. "

Mr. Mathieson did not know how to answer her; he only groaned. 

"Father, will you come?" Nettie repeated, a little faint streak ofcolour in her cheeks showing the earnestness of the feeling at work. Buther words had a mingled accent of tenderness and hope which wasirresistible. 

"Yes, Nettie--if you will show me how, " her father answered, in alowered voice. And Nettie's eye gave one bright flash of joy. It was asif all her strength had gone out at that flash, and she was obliged tolean back on her father's shoulder and wait; joy seemed to have takenaway her breath. He waited too, without knowing why she did. 

"Father, the only thing to do is to come to Jesus. "

"What does that mean, Nettie? You know I don't know. "

"It means, father, that Jesus is holding out his hand with a promise toyou. Now if you will take the promise, --that is all. "

"What is the promise, Nettie?"

Nettie waited, gathered breath, for the talk made her heart beat; andthen said, "'This is the promise that he hath promised us, even eternallife. '"

"How can a sinful man take such a promise?" said Mr. Mathieson, withsuppressed feeling. "That is for people like you, Nettie, not me. "

"Oh, Jesus has bought it!" cried Nettie; "it's free. It's withoutprice. You may have it if you'll believe in him and love him, father. Ican't talk. "

She had talked too much, or the excitement had been too strong for her. Her words were broken off by coughing, and she remarked that her lipmust have bled again. Her father laid her on the bed, and from that timefor a number of days she was kept as quiet as possible; for her strengthhad failed anew and yet more than at first. 

For two weeks she hardly moved from the bed. But except that she was sovery pale, she did not look very ill; her face wore just its own patientand happy expression. Her father would not now let her talk to him; buthe did everything she asked. He read to her in the Bible; Nettie wouldturn over the leaves to the place she wanted, and then point it out tohim with a look of life, and love, and pleasure, that were like a wholesermon; and her father read first that sermon and then the chapter. Hewent to church as she asked him; and without her asking him, after thefirst Sunday. Nettie stayed at home on the bed and sang psalms in herheart. 

After those two weeks there was a change for the better. Nettie feltstronger, looked more as she used to look, and got up and even wentabout a little. The weather was changing too, now. April days weregrowing soft and green; trees budding and grass freshening up, and birdsall alive in the branches; and above all the air and the light, thewonderful soft breath of spring and sunshine of spring, made peopleforget that winter had ever been harsh or severe. 

Nettie went out and took little walks in the sun, which seemed to do hergood; and she begged so hard to be allowed to go to her garret again, that her father took pity on her; sent Mr. Lumber away, and gave her herold nice little room on the same floor with the others. Her mothercleaned it and put it in order, and Nettie felt too happy when she foundherself mistress of it again and possessed of a quiet place where shecould read and pray alone. With windows open, how sweetly the springwalked in there, and made it warm, and bright, and fragrant too. ButNettie had a tenderness for her old garret as long as she lived. 

"It had got to be full of the Bible, mother, " she said one day. "Youknow it was too cold often to sit up there; so I used to go to bed andlie awake and think of things, --at night when the stars wereshining, --and in the morning in the moonlight sometimes. "

"But how was the garret full of the Bible, Nettie?"

"Oh, I had a way of looking at some part of the roof or the window whenI was thinking; when I couldn't have the Bible in my hands. "

"Well, how did that make it?"

"Why the words seemed to be all over, mother. There was one big nail Iused often to be looking at when I was thinking over texts, and aknot-hole in one of the wainscot boards; my texts used to seem to go inand out of that knot-hole. And somehow, mother, I got so that I hardlyever opened the shutter without thinking of those words--'Open ye thegates, that the righteous nation that keepeth the truth may enter in. 'I don't know why, but I used to think of it. And out of that window Iused to see the stars, and look at the golden city. "

"Look at it!" said Mrs. Mathieson. 

"In my thoughts, you know, mother. Oh, mother, how happy we are, thatare going to the city! It seems to me as if all that sunlight was acurtain let down, and the city is just on the other side. "

It was a lovely spring day, the windows open, and the country floodedwith a soft misty sunlight, through which the tender greens of theopening leaf began to appear. Nettie was lying on the bed in her room, her mother at work by her side. Mrs. Mathieson looked at her earnesteyes, and then wistfully out of the window where they were gazing. 

"What makes you think so much about it?" she said, at last. 

"I don't know; I always do. I used to think about it last winter, looking out at the stars. Why, mother, you know Jesus is there; how canI help thinking about it?"

"He is here, too, " murmured poor Mrs. Mathieson. 

"Mother, " said Nettie, tenderly, "aren't those good words, --'He hath notdespised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, neither hath hehid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, _he heard_?' I havethought of those words, very often. "

Nettie wished she could sing, for she had often seen singing comfort hermother; but she had not the power to-day. She gave her the best shecould. Her words, however, constantly carried hurt and healing togetherto her mother's mind. But when Nettie went on to repeat softly the verseof a hymn that follows, she was soothed, notwithstanding the hintedmeaning in the words. So sweet was the trust of the hymn, so unruffledthe trust of the speaker. The words were from a little bit of a book oftranslations of German hymns which Mr. Folke, her Sunday-schoolteacher, had brought her, and which was never out of Nettie's hand. 

 "'As God leads me so my heart In faith shall rest. No grief nor fear my soul shall part From Jesus' breast. In sweet belief I know What way my life doth go-- Since God permitteth so-- That must be best. '"

Slowly she said the words, with her usual sober, placid face; and Mrs. Mathieson was mute. 

For some weeks, as the spring breathed warmer and warmer, Nettierevived; so much that her mother at times felt encouraged about her. Mr. Mathieson was never deceived. Whether his former neglect of his childhad given him particular keenness of vision in all that concerned hernow, or for whatever reason, _he_ saw well enough and saw constantlythat Nettie was going to leave him. There was never a wish of hersuncared for now; there was not a straw suffered to lie in her path, thathe could take out of it. He went to church, and he read at home; hechanged his behaviour to her mother as well as to herself, and hebrought Barry to his bearings. What more did Nettie want?

One Sunday, late in May, Nettie had stayed at home alone while the restof the family were gone to church, the neighbour down stairs havingpromised to look after her. She needed no looking after, though; shespent her time pleasantly with her Bible and her hymns, till feelingtired she went to her room to lie down. The windows were open; it was avery warm day; the trees were in leaf, and from her bed Nettie couldonly see the sunshine in the leaves, and in one place through a gap inthe trees, a bit of bright hill-side afar off. The birds sang merrily, and nothing else sounded at all; it was very Sabbath stillness. SoNettie lay till she heard the steps of the church-goers returning; andpresently, after her mother had been there and gone, her father cameinto her room to see her. He kissed her, and said a few words, and thenwent to the window and stood there looking out. Both were silent sometime, while the birds sang on. 

"Father, " said Nettie. 

He turned instantly, and asked her what she wanted. 

"Father, " said Nettie, "the streets of the city are all of gold. "

"Well, " said he, meeting her grave eyes, "and what then, Nettie?"

"Only, I was thinking, if the _streets_ are gold, how clean must thefeet be that walk on them!"

He knew what her intent eyes meant, and he sat down by her bedside andlaid his face in his hands. "I am a sinful man, Nettie!" he said. 

"Father, 'this is a faithful saying, that Jesus Christ came into theworld to save sinners. '"

"I don't deserve he should save me, Nettie. "

"Well, father, ask him to save you, _because_ you don't deserve it. "

"What sort of a prayer would that be?"

"The right one, father; for Jesus does deserve it, and for his sake isthe only way. If you deserved it, you wouldn't want Jesus; but now '_he_is our peace. ' O father listen, listen, to what the Bible says. " She hadbeen turning the leaves of her Bible, and read low and earnestly--"'Nowwe are ambassadors for God, as though God did beseech you by us; we prayyou, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God. ' Oh, father, aren't youwilling to be reconciled to him?"

"God knows I am willing!" said Mr. Mathieson. 

"_He_ is willing, I am sure, " said Nettie. "'He was wounded for ourtransgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement ofour peace was upon him. ' He has made peace; he is the Prince of Peace;he will give it to you, father. "

There was a long silence. Mr. Mathieson never stirred. Nor Nettie, hardly. The words were true of her, --"He that believeth shall not makehaste. " She waited, looking at him. Then he said, "What must I do, Nettie?"

"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. "

"How, child?"

"Father, the best way is to ask him, and he will tell you how. If youare only willing to be his servant--if you are willing to give yourselfto the Lord Jesus--are you willing, father?"

"I am willing, anything!--if he will have me, " said Mr. Mathieson. 

"Then go, father!" said Nettie, eagerly;--"go and ask him, and he willteach you how; he will, he has promised. Go, father, and ask theLord--will you? Go now. "

Her father remained still a moment--then he rose up and went out of theroom, and she heard his steps going up to the unused attic. Nettiecrossed her hands upon her breast, and smiled. She was too muchexhausted to pray, otherwise than with a thought. 

Her mother soon came in, and startled by her flushed look, asked how shedid. "Well, " Nettie said. Mrs. Mathieson was uneasy, and brought hersomething to take, which Nettie couldn't eat; and insisted on her lyingstill and trying to go to sleep. Nettie thought she could not sleep; andshe did not for some time; then slumber stole over her, and she sleptsweetly and quietly while the hours of the summer afternoon rolled away. Her mother watched beside her for a long while before she awoke; andduring that time read surely in Nettie's delicate cheek and too delicatecolour, what was the sentence of separation. She read it, and smotheredthe cry of her heart, for Nettie's sake. 

The sun was descending toward the western hilly country, and long levelrays of light were playing in the tree-tops, when Nettie awoke. 

"Are you there, mother?" she said--"and is the Sunday so near over! HowI have slept. "

"How do you feel, dear?"

"Why, I feel well, " said Nettie. "It has been a good day. The gold isall in the air here--not in the streets. " She had half raised herselfand was sitting looking out of the window. 

"Do you think of that city all the time?" inquired Mrs. Mathieson, halfjealously. 

"Mother, " said Nettie, slowly, still looking out at the sunlight, "wouldyou be very sorry, and very much surprised, if I were to go there beforelong?"

"I should not be very much surprised, Nettie, " answered her mother, in atone that told all the rest. Her child's eye turned to her sorrowfullyand understandingly. 

"You'll not be very long before you'll be there too, " she said. "Nowkiss me, mother. "

Could Mrs. Mathieson help it? She took Nettie in her arms, but insteadof the required kiss there came a burst of passion that bowed her headin convulsive grief against her child's breast. The pent-up sorrow, thegreat burden of love and tenderness, the unspoken gratitude, theunspeakable longing of heart, all came in those tears and sobs thatshook her as if she had forgotten on what a frail support she was halfresting. Nay, nature must speak this one time; she had taken the matterinto her own hands, and she was not to be struggled with, for a while. Nettie bore it--how did she bear it? With a little trembling of lip atfirst; then that passed, and with quiet sorrow she saw and felt thesuffering which had broken forth so stormily. True to her office, thelittle peacemaker tried her healing art. Softly stroking her mother'sface and head while she spoke, she said very softly and slowly, "Mother, you know it is Jesus that said, 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. ' You have the mourning now, but he willfind the comfort by and by. "

Ashamed of her giving way, and of her having left it to the weak one toact the part of the strong, Mrs. Mathieson checked herself, held up herhead and dried her tears. Nettie lay down wearily. 

"I will stay here, mother, " she said, "till tea is ready; and then Iwill come. " Mrs. Mathieson went to attend to it. 

When Nettie went into the other room, her father was sitting there. Shesaid nothing however, and even for some time did not look in his face tosee what he might have to say to her. She took a cup of tea and abiscuit, and eat an egg that her mother had boiled for her. It was whensupper was over, and they had moved from the table and Mrs. Mathiesonwas busy about, that Nettie turned her eyes once more upon her father, with their soft, full inquiry. He looked grave, subdued, tender; she hadheard that in his voice already; not as she had ever seen him lookbefore. He met her eyes, and answered them. 

"I understand it now, Nettie, " he said. 

It was worth while to see Nettie's smile. She was not a child very givento expressing her feelings, and when pleasure reached that point withher, it was something to see such a breaking of light upon a face thatgenerally dwelt in twilight sobriety. Her father drew her close, closewithin his arms; and without one word Nettie sat there, till, for veryhappiness and weariness, she fell asleep; and he carried her to herroom. 

There was a great calm fell upon the family for a little timethereafter. It was like one of those spring days that were passed--fullof misty light, and peace, and hope, and promise. It was a breath ofrest. 

But they knew it would end--for a time; and one summer day the end came. It was a Sunday again, and again Nettie was lying on her bed, enjoyingin her weakness the loveliness of the air and beauty without. Her motherwas with her, and knew that she had been failing very fast for somedays. Nettie knew it too. 

"How soon do you think father will be home?" she said. 

"Not before another hour, I think, " said Mrs. Mathieson. "Why, what ofit, Nettie?"

"Nothing----" said Nettie, doubtfully. "I'd like him to come. "

"It wont be long, " said her mother. 

"Mother, I am going to give you my little dear hymn book, " said Nettie, presently; "and I want to read you this hymn now, and then you willthink of me when you read it. May I?"

"Read, " said Mrs. Mathieson; and she put up her hand to hide her facefrom Nettie. Nettie did not look, however; her eyes were on her hymn, and she read it, low and sweetly--very sweetly--through. There was notremor in her voice, but now and then a little accent of joy or a shadeof tenderness. 

 "'Meet again! yes, we shall meet again, Though now we part in pain! His people all Together Christ shall call. Hallelujah!

 "'Soon the days of absence shall be o'er, And thou shalt weep no more; Our meeting day Shall wipe all tears away. Hallelujah!

 "'Now I go with gladness to our home, With gladness thou shalt come; There I will wait To meet thee at heaven's gate. Hallelujah!

 "'Dearest! what delight again to share Our sweet communion there! To walk among The holy ransomed throng. Hallelujah!

 "'Here, in many a grief, our hearts were one, But there in joys alone; Joys fading never, Increasing, deepening ever. Hallelujah!

 "'Not to mortal sight can it be given To know the bliss of heaven; But thou shalt be Soon there, and sing with me, Hallelujah!

 "'Meet again! yes, we shall meet again, Though now we part in vain! His people all Together Christ shall call. Hallelujah!'"

Mrs. Mathieson's head bowed as the hymn went on, but she dared not giveway to tears, and Nettie's manner half awed and half charmed her intoquietness. It was not likely she would forget those words ever. When thereading had ceased, and in a few minutes Mrs. Mathieson felt that shecould look toward Nettie again, she saw that the book had fallen fromher hand and that she was almost fainting. Alarmed instantly, she calledfor help, and got one of the inmates of the house to go after Mr. Mathieson. But Nettie sank so fast, they were afraid he would not comein time. The messenger came back without having been able to find him;for after the close of the services in the church Mr. Mathieson hadgone out of his way on an errand of kindness. Nettie herself was too lowto ask for him, if indeed she was conscious that he was not there. Theycould not tell; she lay without taking any notice. 

But just as the last rays of the sun were bright in the leaves of thetrees and on the hills in the distance, Mr. Mathieson's step was heard. One of the neighbours met him and told him what he must expect; and hecame straight to Nettie's room. And when he bent down over her andspoke, Nettie knew his voice and opened her eyes, and once more smiled. It was like a smile from another country. Her eyes were fixed on him. Mr. Mathieson bent yet nearer and put his lips to hers; then he tried tospeak. 

"My little peacemaker, what shall I do without you?"

Nettie drew a long, long breath. "Peace--is--made, " she slowly said. 

And the peacemaker was gone. 

 THE END. 

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