es, mother. Did you see him jump up when Alice ended her oration?
He'd have gone to her if I hadn't held him back. I don't wonder he was
pleased and proud. I spoilt my gloves clapping, and quite forgot my
dislike of seeing women on platforms, she was so earnest and unconscious
and sweet after the first moment.'

'Has he said anything to you, dear?'

'No; and I guess why. The kind boy thinks it would make me unhappy. It
wouldn't. But I know his ways; so I wait, and hope all will go well with
him.'

'It must. No girl in her senses would refuse our John, though he isn't
rich, and never will be. Daisy, I've been longing to tell you what he
did with his money. He told me last night, and I've had no time since to
tell you. He sent poor young Barton to the hospital, and kept him there
till his eyes were saved--a costly thing to do. But the man can work now
and care for his old parents. He was in despair, sick and poor, and too
proud to beg; and our dear boy found it out, and took every penny he
had, and never told even his mother till she made him.'

Alice did not hear what Daisy answered, for she was busy with her own
emotions--happy ones now, to judge from the smile that shone in her eyes
and the decided gesture with which she put the little bud in her bosom,
as if she said: 'He deserves some reward for that good deed, and he
shall have it.'

Mrs Meg was speaking, and still of John, when she could hear again:

'Some people would call it unwise and reckless, when John has so little;
but I think his first investment a safe and good one, for "he who giveth
to the poor lendeth to the Lord"; and I was so pleased and proud, I
wouldn't spoil it by offering him a penny.'

'It is his having nothing to offer that keeps him silent, I think. He
is so honest, he won't ask till he has much to give. But he forgets that
love is everything. I know he's rich in that; I see and feel it; and any
woman should be glad to get it.'

'Right, dear. I felt just so, and was willing to work and wait with and
for my John.'

'So she will be, and I hope they will find it out. But she is so dutiful
and good, I'm afraid she won't let herself be happy. You would like it,
mother?'

'Heartily; for a better, nobler girl doesn't live. She is all I want for
my son; and I don't mean to lose the dear, brave creature if I can help
it. Her heart is big enough for both love and duty; and they can wait
more happily if they do it together--for wait they must,