him; no
bird's-nesting among the gorse-bushes; no rabbit-bunting with Snip, the
little white terrier that was sharing his supper. If little Nan and his
grandfather were to be provided for, he must be a man, with a man's
thoughtfulness, doing man's work. There seemed enough work for him to do
in the field and garden alone, without his twelve hours' toil in the
coal-pit; but his weekly wages would now be more necessary than ever. He
must get up early, and go to bed late, and labour without a moment's
rest, doing his utmost from one day to another, with no one to help him,
or stand for a little while in his place. For a few minutes his brave
spirit sank within him, and all the landscape swam before his eyes; while
Snip took advantage of his master's inattention to put his nose into the
basin, and help himself to the largest share of the potatoes.

'I mean to be like grandmother,' said Martha's clear, sharp voice,
close beside him, and he saw his sister looking eagerly round her. 'I
shall fence the green in, and have lambs and sheep to turn out on the
hillside, and I'll rear young goslings and ducks for market; and we'll
have a brick house, with two rooms in it, as well as a shed for the coal.
And nobody shall put upon us, or touch our rights, Stephen, or they shall
have the length of my tongue.'

'Martha,' said Stephen earnestly, 'do you see how a shower is raining
down on the master's fields at Botfield; and they've been scorched up for
want of water?'

'Yes, surely,' answered Martha; 'and what of that?'

'I'm thinking,' continued Stephen, rather shyly, 'of that verse in my
chapter: "He maketh the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth
rain on the just and the unjust." What sort of a man is the master,
Martha?'

'He's a bad, unjust, niggardly old miser,' replied Martha.

'And if God sends him rain, and takes care of him,' Stephen said, 'how
much more care will He take of us, if we are good, and try to do His
commandments!'

'I should think,' said Martha, but in a softer tone, 'I should really
think He would give us the green, and the lambs, and the new house, and
everything; for both of us are good, Stephen.'

'I don't know,' replied Stephen; 'if I could read all the Bible, perhaps
it would tell us. But now I must go in and read my chapter to father.'

Martha went back to her rocking-chair and knitting, while Stephen reached
down from a shelf an old Bible, covered with green baize, and, having
carefu