waits for us; and isn't it
lovely to think how glad he'll be to see us when we come, and it may
not be long, either. I can almost imagine how happy he is to-night, and
I should hate to feel that we made him sad by sitting here and crying,
as though we regretted his perfect joy. We miss him sadly indeed, but it
will make our time of waiting seem shorter, if we busy ourselves in
doing what we know he would have approved and enjoyed, had he stayed
with us. You, my girls, know how proud and fond he was of you; you know
just which of your little faults grieved him, so work to overcome them,
and try to become the noble, splendid women he always prayed you might
be. As for me, I know how he always trusted me in raising our girls, and
now that he has gone home, and left it all to me, don't you suppose it
is a duty made doubly precious? None of us can complain of idle hands,
and so with busy hearts we can find no time to complain and weep. Now
let's go to our morning work, and all be as happy and cheerful as you
can; just remember, God loves us so much that He has put some one who is
dear to us all in our home above, so that we cannot forget it, even if
we are tempted to do so."

There was a general putting away of handkerchiefs, and many resolves
written on the girlish faces, that were facing their first grief, and
found it hard to do so with a patient faith. As they all left the room
for morning duties, Bea lingered behind the others, and throwing her
arms about her mother, looked up with full eyes and a loving smile.
"Mama, you are such a comfort; you talk about heaven and papa, as if
they were just around the corner, and make me feel as if he knew, and
was interested in all that we did, just as much as ever. I know what
will make him the happiest, and that is for us to be just like you, for
he did love and trust you so perfectly."

CHAPTER VII.

MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF AND EVERYBODY ELSE.

When Mr. Congreve came back from his walk, which had been a very lengthy
one, for he was much unsettled in mind, he came very slowly, and began
an uneasy soliloquy as he neared the house.

"How I just hate to go back there, I do; seven women,--God bless my
soul! and I'll wager my best hat they're all crying like water-spouts,
and haven't made my bed yet. I won't sit down in a room that isn't
cleaned up, and bless my soul,--where's my snuff box? I'd sit out doors,
sooner than be in the room where they're all sniffling,