and Edith repeat it for her?"

Marty was not sure she remembered it all, but Edith knew it, and the
beautiful Psalm was reverently recited.

That evening as Mrs. Scott, wearied with the labors of the day, was
seated in one of the stiff, hard chairs doing some mending by the
uncertain light of a smoky lamp, Jennie told her all that had been said
and done in the afternoon, and then asked,

"Mother, can't you find that about the shepherd in your purple Bible and
read it over to me?"

"I'll try, but I'm a poor reader, Jennie, and anyways I don't know as I
can find the place you want."

She unlocked the trunk and bringing forth, wrapped in soft paper, an
old-fashioned, small-print Bible that had once been handsome, but was
now sadly tarnished, she screwed up the smoky lamp and began to turn the
leaves.

"I don't know where the place is, child. I'm none so handy with books,
and there's a great many different chapters here."

"It was about green pastures and quiet waters. Miss Alice said a pasture
is a field, and it minded me of that grassy field where Tim took me the
summer before he died. You know there was a pond in it, and we paddled
along the edge. It was the prettiest place I ever saw, and on awful hot
days I wish I was there again. I think it must be just such a place the
Bible shepherd takes his folks to."

Mrs. Scott turned the leaves back and forth, anxious to please Jennie,
but unable to find what she wished.

"Now I mind," exclaimed Jennie presently: "Miss Alice didn't call the
green pasture piece a chapter; she called it a Psalm."

"Oh! now I'll find it," said her mother. "I know about Psalms, for my
good old grandfather used to be always reading them, and I used to think
it was queer the way they was spelt--with a 'p' at the beginning. I saw
them over here a minute ago."

Then after a little more searching she inquired,

"Is this it? 'The Lord is my Shepherd: I shall not want.'"

"The very thing!" Jennie exclaimed joyfully.

Mrs. Scott, though with some difficulty, managed to read it, while
Jennie listened with closed eyes and clasped hands, thinking of the
delightful places into which the Shepherd leads his flock.

"They're sweet verses," said Mrs. Scott, as she closed the book, after
laying a piece of yarn in to mark the place, "and it rests a body to
read them. I call to mind now that many's the time I've heard my
granddad read 'em. And I've heard 'em in church, too, when I used to
go."

"