ay to rest. I often do so, and we will go to the
grove this afternoon and try it. But I love to go to church in the
morning; it seems to start me right for the week, and if one has a sorrow,
that is the place where one can always find comfort. Will you come and try
it, Ben, dear?"

"I'd do anything to please you," muttered Ben, without looking up, for,
though he felt her kindness to the bottom of his heart, he did wish that
no one would talk about father for a little while, it was so hard to keep
from crying, and he hated to be a baby.

Miss Celia seemed to understand, for the next thing she said, in a very
cheerful tone, was, "See what a pretty thing that is. When I was a little
girl I used to think spiders spun cloth for the fairies, and spread it on
the grass to bleach."

Ben stopped digging a hole in the ground with his toe, and looked up, to
see a lovely cobweb like a wheel, circle within circle, spun across a
corner of the arch over the gate. Tiny drops glittered on every thread as
the light shone through the gossamer curtain, and a soft breath of air
made it tremble as if about to blow it away.

"It's mighty pretty, but it will fly off, just as the others did. I never
saw such a chap as that spider is. He keeps on spinning a new one every
day, for they always get broke, and he don't seem to be discouraged a
mite," said Ben, glad to change the subject, as she knew he would be.

"That is the way he gets his living. He spins his web and waits for his
daily bread, or fly, rather, and it always comes, I fancy. By and by you
will see that pretty trap full of insects, and Mr. Spider will lay up his
provisions for the day. After that he doesn't care how soon his fine web
blows away."

"I know him; he's a handsome feller, all black and yellow, and lives up in
that corner where the shiny sort of hole is. He dives down the minute I
touch the gate, but comes up after I've kept still a minute. I like to
watch him. But he must hate me, for I took away a nice, green fly and some
little millers one day."

"Did you ever hear the story of Bruce and his spider? Most children know
and like that," said Miss Celia, seeing that he seemed interested.

"No'm; I don't know ever so many things most children do," answered Ben,
soberly, for since he had been among his new friends he had often felt his
own deficiencies.

"Ah, but you also know many things which they do not. Half the boys in
town would give a great deal to be able to