God might put beauty into the world just to give His
children joy, Martha?"

Martha was no controversialist. She had taken her opinions, ready-made,
from those she considered her superiors, and although she was willing to
make any sacrifice for her religion, she did not wish to be confused by
too many opposing theories of God's intentions.

"You know I never argue when I've got anything baking," she said; and
taking the spill of a corn-broom from a table-drawer, she opened the
oven door and delicately plunged it into the loaf. Then, gazing at the
straw as she withdrew it, she said: "You must talk doctrine with Eldress
Abby, Susanna, not with me; but I guess doctrine won't help you so much
as thinking out your life for yourself.

"No one can sing my psalm for me,
Reward must come from labor,
I'll sow for peace, and reap in truth
God's mercy and his favor!"

Martha was the chief musician of the Community, and had composed many
hymns and tunes--some of them under circumstances that she believed
might entitle them to be considered directly inspired. Her clear full
voice filled the kitchen and floated out into the air after Susanna, as
she called Sue and, darning-basket in hand, walked across the road to
the great barn.

The herb-garden was one place where she could think out her life,
although no decision had as yet been born of those thoughtful mornings.

Another spot for meditation was the great barn, relic of the wonderful
earlier days, and pride of the present Settlement. A hundred and
seventy-five feet long and three and a half stories high, it dominated
the landscape. First, there was the cellar, where all the refuse fell,
to do its duty later on in fertilizing the farm lands; then came the
first floor, where the stalls for horses, oxen, and cows lined the walls
on either side. Then came the second floor, where hay was kept, and to
reach this a bridge forty feet long was built on stone piers ten feet
in height, sloping up from the ground to the second story. Over the easy
slope of this bridge the full haycarts were driven, to add their several
burdens to the golden haymows. High at the top was an enormous grain
room, where mounds of yellow corn-ears reached from floor to ceiling;
and at the back was a great window opening on Massabesic Pond and
Knights' Hill, with the White Mountains towering blue or snow-capped in
the distance. There was an old-fashioned, list-bottomed, straight-backed
Shaker chair i