deed, Deacon, I was hoping for him though not exactly expecting
him. A month ago while you was sick, our missionary society had news of
a missionary and his wife down at Springfield who wanted to go up to
Chicagy to study some more about some heathen matter, and couldn't
quite make it with two children. My cousin Seliny Lue down to the Bluff
have took the little girl and we sent five dollars and a letter saying
to send the boy to me for the summer. Come to Mother Mayberry, sonny,"
and Mother sat down on the lowest step and stretched out her arms to
the little ward of the church militant.

Martin Luther's big blue eyes, which were set in his head like those of
a Raphael cherub, looked out from under a huge yellow curl that fell
over his forehead, straight into Mother's gray ones for a moment, and
sticking his pink thumb into his mouth, he sidled into her embrace with
a little sigh of evident relief.

"Eat some, thank ma'am, please," he whispered into her ear by way of a
return of the introduction. His little mother tongue had evidently
suffered a slight twist by his birth and sojourn in a foreign country,
but it served to express the normal condition of all inhabitants of
boy-land.

"Of course he's hungry, bless his little heart," answered Mother as she
removed the fez and ruffled up the damp curls. "Run fetch the tea-cake
bucket from the kitchen safe, 'Liza, and won't you come sit down,
Deacon?"

"No, thank you, Sister," answered the Deacon with a glance of real
regret at the comfortable rocker Miss Wingate had hastened to draw
forward into a sunny but sheltered corner of the porch, "I'm on my way
to take tea with Sister Pratt. I'm to meet Mrs. Bostick there. How's
the throat, child?" And his smile up at the singer lady was one of the
most sympathetic interest.

"Better, thank you, I think," said Miss Wingate, answering both
question and smile. "How well you are looking to-day, Deacon!"

"Why, I'm made over new by that boy of a Doctor," said the Deacon,
fairly beaming with enthusiasm. "Your cure will be only a matter of
time, a matter of time, my dear--Squire Tutt to the contrary," he added
with a chuckle.

"There, bless my heart, if my ears ain't heard two testimonies to Tom
Mayberry all in one minute!" exclaimed Mother with a delighted laugh.
"Have a cake, won't you, Deacon?" she asked, offering the bucket.

She then established Eliza and the small stranger on the edge of the
steps, with an admonition as to