ly
gates, into that city of gold,--"where they need no candle, neither
light of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them light." "So he can give
me light here--or what's better than light," thought Nettie. "God isn't
only out there, in all that beautiful moonlight world--he is here in my
poor little attic too; and he will take just as good care of me as he
does of the birds, and better, for I am his child, and they are only his
beautiful little servants."

Nettie's fear was gone. She prayed her evening prayer; she trusted
herself to the Lord Jesus to take care of her; and then she undressed
herself and lay down and went to sleep, just as quietly as any sparrow
of them all with its head under its wing.

CHAPTER III.

NETTIE'S GARRET.

Nettie's attic grew to be a good place to her. She never heard the least
sound of rats; and it was so nicely out of the way. Barry never came up
there, and there she could not even hear the voices of her father and
Mr. Lumber. She had a tired time of it down stairs.

That first afternoon was a good specimen of the way things went on.
Nettie's mornings were always spent at school; Mrs. Mathieson would have
that, as she said, whether she could get along without Nettie or no.
From the time Nettie got home till she went to bed, she was as busy as
she could be. There was so much bread to make, and so much beef and pork
to boil, and so much washing of pots and kettles; and at meal times
there were very often cakes to fry, besides all the other preparations.
Mr. Mathieson seemed to have made up his mind that his lodger's rent
should all go to the table and be eaten up immediately; but the
difficulty was to make as much as he expected of it in that line; for
now he brought none of his own earnings home, and Mrs. Mathieson had
more than a sad guess where they went. By degrees he came to be very
little at home in the evenings, and he carried off Barry with him.
Nettie saw her mother burdened with a great outward and inward care at
once, and stood in the breach all she could. She worked to the extent of
her strength, and beyond it, in the endless getting and clearing away of
meals; and watching every chance, when the men were out of the way, she
would coax her mother to sit down and read a chapter in her Testament.
"It will rest you so, mother," Nettie would say; "and I will make the
bread just as soon as I get the dishes done. Do let me! I like to do
it."

Sometimes Mrs. Mathieson could