aged seven, who had a gift for such things, asked a blessing,
and we had begun life in the new home. I wonder why tears are trying to
come as I write about it. There was never a better meal, or a jollier
one--never a happier, healthier family.

A shower came up and settled into a gentle rain. The barn, where we were
going to sleep, was a good step away, so that when the time came we put
on our rubbers, took our umbrellas and a lantern, and set out for bed.
There was nothing very wonderful about all this, of course; it only
seemed wonderful to us because it was all so new. The Pride and the Hope
declared they were always going to sleep in the barn, and when we got
inside the big, lofty place, and in the gloom overheard heard the soft
feet of the rain on the shingles, I, too, had a deep-down wish that
there was nothing in the world, but this--that the pleasant night and
soothing patter might never cease.

Truth obliges me to confess that on that first night our bed was not an
entire success. For convenience and economy we had laid it in a
continuous stretch on the floor, with some hay beneath. There being not
enough mattresses for all, I had built an extension of hay for the elder
members of the family. It was the best hay, but I had used it too
sparingly. I suppose I had not realized how, with adjustment, it would
pack and separate. I know it had hardened considerably by the time I had
made one or two turns as a necessary preparation for sleep. I remarked
each time how delightful it all was, to which Elizabeth agreed, though
she had the courage presently to venture that she didn't think it quite
as soft as one of Lady Westbury's feather beds. The Pride observed that
there seemed to be a certain horsey smell that did not entirely please
her, though the Joy, who was probably imagining herself hitched in one
of the stalls, declared that she liked that best of anything. As for the
Hope--clear of conscience and worn with the riot of the day--she had
plunged without a moment's hesitation into the blessed business of
sleep. It engaged us all, at length, and we must have become adapted by
morning, for when we were all awake and lay in the dim light, listening
to the quiet music of the continuing rain, there was no voice of
discontent. Elizabeth thought it likely that she was considerably
bruised, but, as she made no complaint later, this was perhaps a false
alarm.

[Illustration]

When I crept out and pushed open the wide fr