at, and fairly ran to buy it. Out of breath,
he took Mercy's hands in his, and exclaimed,--

"O Mercy, do you really want to sell this house?"

Very unworldly were this young man and this young woman, in the matter of
sale and purchase. Adepts in traffic would have laughed, had they
overheard the conversation.

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Allen, I do. I must sell it; and I am afraid I shall
have to sell it for a great deal less than it is worth," replied Mercy.

"No, you sha'n't, Mercy! I'll buy it myself. I've always wanted it. But
why in the world do you want to sell it? Where will you live yourself?
There isn't another house in the village you'd like half so well. Is it
too large for you?" continued Mr. Allen, hurriedly. Then Mercy told him
all her plans, and the sad necessity for her making the change. The young
minister did not speak for some moments. He seemed lost in thought. Then
he exclaimed,--

"I do believe it's a kind of Providence!" and drew a letter from his
pocket, which he had only two days before received from Stephen White.
"Mercy," he went on, "I believe I've got the very thing you want right
here;" and he read her the concluding paragraph of the letter, in which
Stephen had said: "Meantime, I am waiting as patiently as I can for a
tenant for the other half of this house. It seems to be very hard to find
just the right sort of person. I cannot take in any of the mill
operatives. They are noisy and untidy; and the bare thought of their being
just the other side of the partition would drive my mother frantic. I wish
so much I could get some people in that would be real friends for her. She
is very lonely. She never leaves her bed; and I have to be away all day."

Mercy's face lighted up. She liked the sound of each word that this
unknown man wrote. Very eagerly she questioned Mr. Allen about the town,
its situation, its healthfulness, and so forth. As he gave her detail
after detail, she nodded her head with increasing emphasis, and finally
exclaimed: "That is precisely such a spot as Dr. Wheeler said we ought to
go to. I think you're right, Mr. Allen. It's a Providence. And I'd be so
glad to be good to that poor old woman, too. What a companion she'd be for
mother! that is, if I could keep them from comparing notes for ever about
their diseases. That's the worst of putting invalid old women together,"
laughed Mercy with a kindly, merry little laugh.

Mr. Allen had visited Penfield only once. When he and St