cious time was running away fast, and Nettie
had had no dinner. But she stood patiently, with a thought in her heart
which kept her in peace all the while. When it was done, Mr. Mathieson
went out; and Nettie returned to her mother. She was sitting where she
had 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 it
hastily.

"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 it
necessary that anybody should rest, or go to church, or do anything
except work. What he is thinking of, I am sure I don't know. There is no
place to eat in but this room, and he is going to bring a stranger into
it; and if I was dying I should have to get up for every meal that is
wanted. I never thought I should come to live so! And I cannot dress
myself, or prepare the victuals, or have a moment to myself, but I have
the chance of Mr. Lumber and your father in here to look on! It is worse
than a dog's life!"

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

"And what sort of a man this Mr. Lumber is, I don't know. I dare say he
is 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 kill
me before spring, if it lasts."

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

"Where would you make it? I could curtain off a corner of this room, but
Barry wouldn't have it, nor your father; and they'd all want to be
close 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 never
die.'"

"O yes!" said Mrs. Mathieson, with a kind of long-drawn groan, "I don't
know 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;