Betty's Bright Idea; Deacon Pitkin's Farm; and the First Christmas of New England

other's sanctum. There stood her work-basket-there were always piles and piles of work, begun or finishe

whether in this country or in England, that was noteworthy, was matter of keen interest, and Mrs. Pitkin's small library was very dear to her. No nun in a convent under vows of abstinence ever practiced more rigorous self-denial than she did in

over piles of stockings and shirts, while on the table beside her lay her open Bible, and she was si

r help in

for years

from the s

eterna

e very look of exquisite calm and resolved strength in her patient eyes and in the gentle lines of her face had something that seemed to him sad and awful-as the purely spiritual always looks to the more animal nature. With his blood bounding and tingling in his veins, his strong arms pulsating with life, and his heart full

, sat down by her on the floor

er rest; you nev

going to stop now. I had only a fe

e our amusements, our rests, our changes; your work is never done; you a

hose we love never is drudgery. I'm so happ

ong, and I don't see how you

more, and he always gives it. 'They that wait on the Lord shall renew

es-while "Mother," he said, "I want you to give me your B

t flush and a pleased sm

y, my boy

e places," he added. "It will seem

ing up the Bible and kissing his fo

saying it-without letting her know that he was going to leave

I ever get into heaven

a better Friend than I am-who loves you mor

might find him, then. You

m with a face full of r

are consecrated," she added, in a lo

ential tone. He felt that she

and the sense of it stole over him like a benediction

g. Good-night." And with a long embrace and kiss they separated. He had yet fif

ushes till they emerged into the moonlight and passed into the house. Diana was in one of those paroxysms of young girl frolic which are the effervescence of young, healthy blood, as natural as the gyrations of a bobolink on a clove