hich was Saturday; not
seriously, yet deep enough to need a couple of stitches taken in it, and
to necessitate the wearing of a bandage instead of a shoe for awhile.
Sunday morning, by the aid of a broom stick, he hopped out to the
hammock in the shady side yard, and proceeded to enjoy to the fullest
his disabled condition. For some reason there was no service in the
little school-house which usually took the place of a chapel on the
Sabbath, and he openly rejoiced that his family would be free to
minister to his comfort and entertainment all day long.

The hammock hung so near the side window of the kitchen that he could
look in and see Mary and his mother washing up the breakfast china in
their deft, dainty way. Jack was doing the morning chores usually
allotted to his younger brother. It was with a sense of luxurious ease
that Norman lolled in the hammock, watching Jack bring in wood and
water, carry out ashes and sweep the porch. In his role of invalid he
felt privileged to ask to be waited upon at intervals, also to demand
his favorite dessert for dinner. He did this through the kitchen window,
taking part in the conversation which went on as a brisk accompaniment
to the quick movements of busy hands.

It was a perfect June day, the kind that makes one feel that with a sky
so fair and an earth so sweet life is too full to ask anything more of
heaven. Time and again in the pauses that fell between their remarks,
Mary's voice jubilantly broke out in the refrain of an old hymn that
they all loved: "Happy day, oh, happy day!" And when Jack's deep bass
out on the porch and Mrs. Ware's sweet alto in the pantry took up the
words to the accompaniment of swishing broom and clattering cups, Norman
hummed them too, like a big, contented bumblebee in a field of clover.

Years afterward Mary used to look back to that day and fondly re-live
every hour of it. Somehow every little incident stood out so vividly
that she could recall even the feeling of unusual well-being and
contentment which seemed to imbue them all.

They had spread the table out under the trees at Norman's insistence,
and she had only to close her eyes to recall how each one looked as
they gathered around it. She could remember even the pearl gray tie that
Jack wore, and the way Norman's hair curled in little rings around his
forehead. And she could see her mother's quick smile of appreciation
when Jack slipped a cushion into her chair, and her affectionate g