."

"I'm glad," said Mr. Tomkins, "that the minister isn't here to listen
to you. Come along now; I've plenty still to do before supper. The
widow Wicket's gate is down. But I've promised to set a fence for
Farmer Barly first."

"You need help, William," remarked Mr. Jeminy thoughtfully; "you need
help. I must see what I can do." And he went home, down the hill,
after Mr. Tomkins.

The next day he started out early in the morning. When Mrs. Grumble
asked him where he was going, he replied, "I must step over to Mr.
Tomkins, to help him with something."

From Mr. Tomkins he borrowed a saw, a plane, a hammer, and a box of
nails. Then he hurried off to mend Mrs. Wicket's gate. On the way he
stopped to gather an armful of goldenrod for his friend, and also to
pick a yellow aster for himself, from Mrs. Cobbler's garden.

When he arrived at Mrs. Wicket's cottage, the widow's pale face and
listless manner, filled him with alarm. "I've been up with Juliet,"
she said. "The child has a touch of croup. It's nothing. She's
better this morning." And she gave him her hand, still cold with the
chill of night.

"Good heavens," exclaimed Mr. Jeminy; "I am sure Mrs. Grumble would
have been glad to keep you company."

Mrs. Wicket smiled. But she did not answer this declaration, which Mr.
Jeminy knew in his heart to be untrue.

Putting down his tools, he began to examine the gate. "Hm," he said.
"Hm. Yes, I'll soon have this fixed for you." Mrs. Wicket stood
watching him with a gentle smile. "You're very kind," she said. "It's
very kind of you, Mr. Jeminy. Most folks are too proud to turn a hand
for me, no matter what was to happen."

"Tut," said Mr. Jeminy.

"Well, it's a fact," said Mrs. Wicket gravely. "I've never felt
loneliness like I do here. Not ever. Because I've had trouble, Mr.
Jeminy, and known sorrow, folks leave me alone. I'd go away . . . only
where would I go?"

"Sorrow," said Mr. Jeminy, "is a good friend, Mrs. Wicket. Sorrow and
poverty are close to our hearts. They teach the spirit to be resolute
and indulgent.

"One must also learn," he added, "to bear sorrow without being vexed by
it."

"I've never had sorrow without being vexed by it," said Mrs. Wicket.
"To my way of thinking, sorrow comes so full of troubles, it's hard to
tell what's one, and what's the other."

"Sorrow," said Mr. Jeminy, "comes only to the humble and the wise. It
is the emotion of a gentle and courageous