borrowed 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, the
mixing and making of the waffles.

"How do you manage the iron, mother?"

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

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

"Why, you can't, child; you fill one half, and shut it together: and
when 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 the
afternoon was, if the waffles were light? She never saw any look better,
Mrs. Mathieson said; "but I forgot, child, we ought to have cinnamon and
white sugar to eat on them;--it was so that your father used to admire
them; they wont be waffles without sugar and cinnamon, I'm afraid he'll
think;--but I don't believe you'll get him home to think anything about
them."

Mrs. Mathieson ended with a sigh. Nettie said nothing; she went round
the 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 and
prayed that God would take care of her and bless her errand. She put
the whole matter in the Lord's hands; then she dressed herself in her
hood and cloak and went down to her mother. Mr. Mathieson had not come
home to dinner, being busy with the house-raising; so they had had no
opportunity 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, sweet
little face, Mrs. Mathieson felt a great strain on her heart. She would
have been glad to relieve herself by tears, but it was a dry pain that
would not be relieved so. She went to the window, and looked out at the
weather.

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 of
clouds, and turned at last to snowing. The large feathery flakes were
falling now, fast; melting as