f affection that he was powerfully attracted
to her even in the period of Johnny-hood, and, as we have said, she
captured him entirely when he reached Jack-hood.

Old Nell was a splendid story-teller. That was one of the baits with
which she was fond of hooking young people. It was interesting to sit
in the fisherman's poor cottage and watch the little ones sitting
open-mouthed and eyed, gazing at the withered little face, in which
loving-kindness, mingling with fun, beamed from the old eyes, played
among the wrinkles, smiled on the lips, and asserted itself in the
gentle tones.

"Jack," said Mrs Matterby, on the Christmas morning which ushered in
her boy's ninth birthday, "come, I'm going to give you a treat to-day."

"You always do, mammy, on my birthdays," said Jack.

"I want you to go with a message to a poor woman," continued the mother.

"Is that all?" exclaimed Jack, with a disappointed look.

"Yes, that's all--or nearly all," replied his mother, with a twinkle in
her eye, however, which kept her son from open rebellion. "I want you
to carry this basket of good things, with my best love and Christmas
good-wishes, to old Nell Grove."

"Oho!" exclaimed Jack, brightening up at once, "I'm your man; here, give
me the basket. But, mother," he added with a sudden look of perplexity,
"you called old Nell a _poor_ woman, and I've heard her sometimes say
that she has _everything_ that she needs and _more_ than she deserves!
She can't be poor if that's true, and it _must_ be true; for you know
that old Nell never, _never_ tells lies."

"True, Jack; old Nell is not poor in one sense: she is rich in faith.
She has got `contentment with godliness,' and many rich people have not
got that. Nevertheless she has none too much of the necessaries of this
life, and none at all of the luxuries, so that she is what people
usually call poor."

"That's a puzzler, mammy--poor and rich both!"

"I daresay it is a puzzler," replied Mrs Matterby, with a laugh, "but
be off with your basket and message, my son; some day you shall
understand it better."

Pondering deeply on this "puzzler," the boy went off on his mission,
trudging through the deep snow which whitened the earth and brightened
that Christmas morning.

"She's as merry as a cricket to-day," said Natty Grove, who opened the
cottage door when his friend knocked.

"Yes, as 'erry as a kiket," echoed flaxen-haired Nellie, who stood
beside him.

"She's always 'erry,