Psalmist says, 'Let the righteous smite me; it shall be a kindness: and
let him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break
my head.' But you see the peacemaker must be righteous himself, or he
hasn't the oil. Love is the oil; the love of Jesus."

"Mr. Folke," said Nettie, timidly, "wasn't Jesus a peacemaker?"

"The greatest that ever lived!" said Mr. Folke, his eyes lighting up
with pleasure at her question. "He made all the peace there is in the
world, for he bought it, when he died on the cross to reconcile man with
God. All our drops of oil were bought with drops of blood."

"And," said Nettie, hesitatingly, "Mr. Folke, isn't that one way of
being a peacemaker?"

"What?"

"I mean, to persuade people to be at peace with him?"

"That is the way above all others, my child; that is truly to be the
'children of God.' Jesus came and preached peace; and that is what his
servants are doing, and will do, till he comes. And 'they shall be
called the children of God.' 'Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also
to love one another.'"

Mr. Folke paused, with a face so full of thought, of eagerness, and of
love, that none of the children spoke and some of them wondered. And
before Mr. Folke spoke again the superintendent's little bell rang; and
they all stood up to sing. But Nettie Mathieson hardly could sing; it
seemed to her so glorious a thing to be _that_ sort of a peacemaker.
Could she be one? But the Lord blessed the peacemakers; then it must be
his will that all his children should be such; then he would enable her
to be one! It was a great thought. Nettie's heart swelled, with hope
and joy and prayer. She knew whose peace she longed for, first of all.

Her mother had now come to church; so Nettie enjoyed all the services
with nothing to hinder. Then they walked home together, not speaking
much to each other, but every step of the way pleasant in the Sunday
afternoon light, till they got to their own door. Nettie knew what her
mother's sigh meant, as they mounted the stairs. Happily, nobody was at
home yet but themselves.

"Now, mother," said Nettie, when she had changed her dress and come to
the common room,--"what's to be for supper? I'll get it. You sit still
and read, if you want to, while it's quiet. What must we have?"

"There is not a great deal to do," said Mrs. Mathieson. "I boiled the
pork this morning, and that was what set your father up so; that's
ready; and he says there must