me! My troubles never cease. Just think, I might have been
killed if the good Lord had not stopped that thing from falling."

The clergyman repressed a smile as he well knew that the Lord had
nothing to do with it. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and
busied himself with picking up the various articles and broken
fragments which strewed the floor.

"What an awful baby he is," Mrs. Marden at length, exclaimed. "If he
can do such a terrible thing now, what will he do when he grows up? It
is not safe to have such a child in your house."

"Why, any child would have done the same," the parson replied. "He
didn't mean any harm."

"He didn't! Why, what else did he mean, then? Children should be
taught to behave themselves. I never allowed a child of mine to climb
up and pull things over. Poor dear Abner often said that I was the one
woman in the whole parish who knew how to bring up children. But,
there, I must go. My head is aching badly, and I know that I shall get
no rest to-night. Oh, what troubles we poor mortals are heir to in
this mundane sphere."

"You must not walk, Mrs. Marden," Parson Dan insisted. "I shall drive
you home. It will take me only a few minutes to harness Sweepstakes."

"But I'm afraid it will be too much trouble," was the reply.

"Not at all, not at all, Mrs. Marden, I shall be only too glad to do
it." In fact the rector was most anxious to get his visitor out of the
house before she began to pour forth her tale of woe, which he believed
she had forgotten. But in this he was doomed to disappointment.

"Just a minute, parson," the widow began. "I haven't told you yet the
object of my visit here to-night."

"Doesn't your head trouble you too much to bother with it now?" the
clergyman asked, trying to look as sympathetic as possible. "Suppose
you wait until you feel better."

"No, I can't do that, for it might be too late. Just think what might
become of me and my poor fatherless children if I put it off until
to-morrow."

"Oh, is it as serious as that, Mrs. Marden?"

"Indeed it is, and it is but another example of how the widow is
oppressed. If poor Abner was only alive! But now that he is gone,
people think that they can do what they like with a lonely widow."

"What, has any one been trying to injure you, Mrs. Marden?"

"Yes, that's just it. Tom Dunker is the one, and he's trying to get
the lighthouse from me."

"Ah, so that's it?" and the parson gave a