feVtaL fcswtfjfcta'W.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CROSS CORNEE8
 
 Cross Corners 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNA B. WARNER 
 
 BOSTON 
 DE WOLFE & FISKE CO. 
 
 20 Franklin Street
 
 Copyright, 1887, 
 By Robert Carter & Brothers.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In a certain small brown house on the outskirts 
 of a country village, there sat — once upon a time 
 — a woman at work. No extra yards of calico had 
 been spent in trimming her dress ; though enough 
 had been wrought in, and enough care taken, to 
 make the dress set well and look pleasant. The 
 little collar was white and smooth, if it was not 
 very fine ; and the fresh, ample blue apron had a 
 homelike, thrifty look. The wearer's hair too was 
 in close, glossy order ; only a few curling locks, 
 shorter than the rest, had escaped from bondage, 
 as if with the habit of long ago; and her hands 
 were delicately clean, except that the fingers were 
 marked with deep lines of colour from the thread 
 and silk with which she was stitching boot tops. 
 In and out, in and out, went the needle; the fin- 
 gers never paused, the worker's eyes never lifted. 
 
 If you could have seen more than the toe of the 
 
 (5) 
 
 Ins o/r: r
 
 6 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 well-worn shoe that shewed beneath the dress, you 
 would have found it to be also well-brushed and 
 well-tied. 
 
 The small room had few adornments, and those 
 of the simplest kind. Like its mistress it was in 
 most scrupulous order, which certainly gave a 
 sort of beauty to the pine table and hard wooden 
 chairs, the two breadths of rag carpet, and the 
 bare floor beyond. Yet the ornaments, strictly 
 speaking, were but two: the one a broad level 
 sunbeam, which — separated somehow from its 
 companions — streamed goldenly in from the west; 
 the other a branch of sweet musk roses, twining 
 and clambering about the same open window that 
 let in the sunbeam, and shewing several soft 
 white faces to the dwellers within the room. 
 
 To Mrs. Keith's* eyes, indeed, there was yet a 
 third beauty amid her plain surroundings; one that 
 far surpassed roses, and threw even sunshine into 
 the shad<-: and that was her own little daughter. 
 Eunice sat on a low stool in the very path of the 
 sunbeam, as silent as that, and more motionless; 
 for while the yellow glow crept over her frock, and 
 leaving first the little feel next sent a farewell 
 glance into her face, Eunice never stirred. On her 
 lap was her mother's big Bible; and with the vol-
 
 CROSS CORKERS. <j 
 
 ume open at one particular place, Eunice studied 
 and pondered — turning a leaf or two now one 
 way and now another, but never failing to come 
 back from such short wanderings to the special 
 chapter in hand. Then she looked up from her 
 book, and gazed straight out through the open 
 window. 
 
 ' We're very poor, aren't we, mother ?' she said, 
 at length. 
 
 ' Why, no—' said Mrs. Keith, gently. ' I do 
 not feel "very poor," Eunice.' 
 
 'Don't you, mother?' the child said, wistfully. 
 ' I thought — sometimes — that maybe you did.' - 
 
 1 Well, sometimes — maybe I have — when I was 
 naughty,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 Eunice smiled at that; her mother was such 
 perfection of goodness to her. 
 
 ' Then you don't really think we are poor, 
 mother ? ' she said, the intent look coming back. 
 
 ' No, on the contrary I think we are very rich.' 
 
   Very rich ? ' said Eunice in a tone of wonder. 
 She looked round the room, — at the floor, the 
 scanty furniture, her mother's dress, and the work 
 which never ceased for an instant: then sat think- 
 ing. Even the two breadths of rag carpet had 
 been mended !
 
 g CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 4 But we are not rich as Queen Esther was, 
 mother,' she said at last. 
 
 ' How was she rich?' asked Mrs. Keith, glanc- 
 ing at Eunice and her book. 
 
 4 I guess you know,' said Eunice, looking down 
 at the open Bible with a little shake of her head, 
 and fluttering over the leaves. ' Why — she had 
 the royal crown upon her head, mother! — the king 
 put it there himself. And she had royal apparel 
 to wear, — and she was the king's wife. And the 
 king (that was A-has-ueras) granted whatever she 
 chose to ask him. And she prepared banquets for 
 him and other great people.' 
 
 4 Was that all ? ' said Mrs. Keith. 
 4 All ? ' Eunice repeated in great astonishment ; 
 wasn't that a great deal, mother? But maybe 
 you think the queen of Sheba had more ?' 
 
 4 What did the queen of Sheba have ? ' said Mrs. 
 Keith. 
 
 4 1 don't know exactly,' said Eunice, turning 
 back now from Esther to the Kings. 4 But she 
 wouldn't have brought all she had, when she 
 came to *n- Solomoo — do you think so ?' 
 
 'No, I should think not,' said Mrs. Keith. 4 I 
 
 presume she brought only a specimen of her riches, 
 
 leaving very mueh more at home.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 'Then she must have had more than anybody 
 ever heard of! ' said Eunice, studying the verses 
 and then reading them out aloud. 
 
 4 " She came to Jerusalem with a very great train, 
 with camels that bare spices, and very much gold, 
 and precious stones" — 
 
 'And then afterwards — yes, of course she 
 must have left plenty more at home ! 
 
 4 "She gave the king an hundred and twenty 
 talents of gold, and of spices a very great store, 
 and precious stones: there came no more such 
 abundance of spices as these which the queen of 
 Sheba give to king Solomon." 
 
 ' And we can't get even a spoonful of cinnamon !' 
 said Eunice in conclusion ; not at all complaining, 
 but wondering, as before. She sat still, poring 
 over the passage, and happily unconscious that 
 those last childish words had made her mother's 
 face turn white with pain. But the swift needle 
 never paused : if anything it flew faster than before ; 
 and Eunice sat and pondered. At last she broke 
 forth again. 
 
 1 It sounds like a great deal, mother ! ' 
 
 4 It was not much, if she had nothing more,' Mrs. 
 Keith answered steadily. 
 
 'But whatever made her bring things to Sol-
 
 10 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 omon, I wonder ? ' said Eunice. '•He couldn't have 
 been poor, for he was a king.' 
 
 ' There have been plenty of poor kings,' said 
 Mrs. Keith, ' but Solomon was certainly not one.' 
 
 ' Well I should think not,' said Eunice, reading 
 on. 
 
 ' " Now the weight of gold that came to Solomon 
 in one year, was six hundred thousand talents of 
 gold." — Why did the queen of Sheba give him any 
 more ? ' 
 
 ' She brought her gifts as a compliment.' 
 
 'If she wanted to compliment him very much,' 
 said Eunice, 'she ought to have brought something 
 he hadn't got already.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mrs. Keith, ' that she could not do. Sol- 
 omon had everything this world can furnish, and 
 plenty of it. Turn back to the fourth chapter of 
 First Kings, and you will see that he was not in 
 much need of earthly treasure of any sort.' 
 
 'I should rather suppose he wasn't,' said Eu- 
 m'ee. when she had found the place. She readout: 
 
 ' " And Sold! [ion's provision for one day was thir- 
 ty measures of fine flour, and threescore measures 
 of meal; ten fat oxen, and twenty oxen out of the 
 . and an hundred sherj). besides harts, and 
 
 . and fallow deer, and fatted fowl."
 
 CROSS CORNERS. H 
 
 The vision of such abundance made Eunice look 
 a little sober. It did sound so good ! Of course 
 there was always fresh bread, and plenty of it, 
 with so much flour on hand : no pay to wait for, 
 no task of stitching to be done first ! — even cake 
 must have been a common thing. Eunice glanced 
 up at her mother — but except for a certain firm set 
 of the lips, Mrs. Keith went calmly on with her 
 boot tops, and gave no sign of being particularly 
 impressed with the supplies of Solomon's great 
 household. 
 
 ' It does sound like a great deal, mother ?' urged 
 Eunice wistfully. 
 
 ' And it really was very little, if they had nothing 
 more,' Mrs. Keith answered again. ' But Eunice, 
 love, do vou see how low the sun has fallen ? — and 
 your teakettle is not filled, nor the fire made.' 
 
 'To be sure ! ' said the child, jumping up and dis- 
 lodging the cat, which had been slumbering un- 
 seen beneath her apron. She laid her big book 
 carefully down on the table, caught up the kettle — 
 then paused. 
 
 ' Hadn't I better make the fire first, this once, 
 mother ? ' she said. ' Because it's so late. Then it 
 would be all burning bright by the time I get 
 back. :
 
 12 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 But if you should meet a blue bird or a grey 
 squirrel, and be detained,' said Mrs. Keith with a 
 smile at her little daughter, — ' then what?' 
 
 ' Then all my beautiful chips would burn up for 
 nothing,' said Eunice laughing. And taking firm 
 hold of her kettle once more, she ran off to fill it 
 at the spring.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The spring was a little silvery, bubbling gush of 
 the purest water, which suddenly uprising from 
 the ground near Mrs. Keith's cottage, then ran its 
 musical way through the meadow and down the 
 hill, a sparkling messenger of life and gladness. Eu- 
 nice always went to the very spring head to fill 
 her kettle, where the water spread itself out in a 
 small clear basin among the rocks, and an old beech 
 tree waved its shadows overhead. The place was a 
 great delight to her. Nobody ever seemed to come 
 there but herself and the blue birds (there were 
 springs enough elsewhere in the village), and that 
 only made it all the better. She liked to see the 
 eager rush of the bright water from its hidden 
 storehouse underground; always coming, coming, 
 from just the same side of the basin; pouring out 
 its fresh sweet supply in perfect silence, but in 
 such haste as if it thought the whole world was 
 
 thirsty and could not wait. And wait the world 
 
 (13)
 
 14 C&OSS CORNERS. 
 
 should not, for 60 much as this spring could give. 
 Where did it come from, where did it go to ? "All 
 the rivers run into the sea, yet the Bea is not full." 
 And " the harvest truly is plenteous, but the labour- 
 er- are few." There are more cups of cold water 
 needed than either you or I wili ever guess. 
 
 Eunice studied the spring for a few minutes 
 this afternoon; the soft noiseless uprising of the 
 water, — then turned to watch the dimpling of the 
 little brook as it rushed away over the pebbles, in 
 greater haste than ever to do its work, and now 
 for the first time beginning to dance and sing. 
 What a hurry it was in ! — and what a frolic ! Curl 
 and tumble and rush — so it went on; the tall 
 grasses bent their heads ; the flowers laughed 
 through their tears; but the little pool at the 
 spring-head was as clear and still as if neither 
 dance nor tears had ever been heard of. The sum- 
 mer sky seemed to pave the basin with its perfect 
 bine 
 
 • Like mother and me,' thought Eunice, smiling 
 to herself over the happy conceit. ' Because I'm 
 always on the run, and Bhe never stirs. But then 
 
 * 
 
 every single thing 1 have is just from her. Ah 
 how pretty she is !' And Eunice gazed into the 
 clear depths of the little pool, and thought of her
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 15 
 
 mother's eyes, and somehow forgot the queen of 
 Sh*»ba. Then she began to sing: 
 
 ' Mother and I live all together, 
 Mother and I, mother and I : 
 In sunshiny days and in rainy weather, 
 
 Mother and I. 
 She does the work and I do the play, 
 And so we are busy all the day ; 
 Mother and I.' 
 
 EiMaice had perched herself on one of the gray 
 stones at the water's edge, leaning over and sing- 
 ing to the spring ; but now a sharp rattle of horses' 
 hoofs cut short her musing; and she started up to 
 look. This was no jolting lumber wagon, nor slow- 
 toiling load of hay. 
 
 Down the broad road, fording as it were the 
 flood of sunshine, came a grand carriage; roll- 
 ing along with such swift, easy, springy motion, 
 that it seemed to Eunice as if it went on air. Two 
 high-stepping black horses whirled it along; their 
 manes tossing in the wind, their harness glitter- 
 ing and flashing in the sunbeams. The very coach- 
 man had gold lace on his hat, and the ladies inside 
 the carriage were like nothing in the world but 
 pink and blue fairies, with wings of gauze and 
 gold.
 
 It; CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 So Eunice thought as she beheld them. She 
 stood and gazed at the vision, wonder-struck; 
 shading her eyes with both hands, for at this time 
 of day the old beech tree could not play parasol. 
 The landau came on, had almost passed her, when 
 suddenly the coachman reined up his horses, and 
 they stopped short; champing their bits, foaming 
 and impatient. Then the coachman signed to Eu- 
 nice with his whip, — but she took no notice, fasci- 
 nated now with the white flecks of foam the horses 
 tossed over their smooth black coats. The man 
 signed again — then called out: 
 
 • I lere you, little girl ! — hillo !' 
 
 Eunice started and turned her big eyes on him, 
 but made n<> answer. 
 
 ' ( 'miie here, I said !' cried the coachman. 'You're 
 wanted.' 
 
 Slowy and timidly Eunice came down from her 
 gray rock, and went towards the carriage. What 
 could they want with her, these many-coloured 
 fairies! Were they going to take her a drive, in 
 their grand carriage? — she had read of such things 
 id her Sunday-school story hooks; and if so, would 
 Bhe have time just t<> run in and put on her best 
 Bhoes and her Sunday frock ? And still more 'if 
 would they ever bring her back ? Eunice
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 17 
 
 Keith's heart was all in a flutter as she drew near. 
 
 4 Little girl,' said a pink fairy, ' is there good water 
 in that spring over yonder ? Good drinking water, 
 I mean.' 
 
 ' O yes ma'am, it's splendid,' said Eunice, very 
 much surprised. Could such creatures of gauze 
 and gold be really in want of a drink of common 
 everyday water ? 
 
 • Don't your pigs go there ?' said a blue fairy. 
 
 ' No, ma'am,' said Eunice. ' We haven't got any 
 pigs.' 
 
 ' Nor ducks, nor geese, nor any such horrid crea- 
 tures ?' 
 
 ' No ma'am.' 
 
 ' Chickens, then — I'm sure you've got chickens,' 
 said the pink fairy. 
 
 ' I wish we had some chickens,' said Eunice with 
 a little shake of her head; ' but we haven't a thing 
 to keep, except our cat. And she don't like water 
 much.' 
 
 ' but there might be cows !' said the one in 
 blue. ' Little girl, what does drink there ?' 
 
 ' Only mother and I, ma'am,' said Eunice. 'And 
 maybe the birds sometimes.' 
 
 'Birds ? ugh !' — said the fairy with a very human 
 gesture of disgust. ' But in the country one must
 
 18 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 expect all sorts of horrid things. You don't have 
 the water brought into the house, I suppose, 
 child?' 
 
 'No ma'am,' said Eunice, much puzzled. 'At 
 least, I mean, I bring it for mother sometimes.' 
 
 1 Easier put the house in the water,' suggested a 
 green fairy, ' if that is the house !' — and then they 
 all laughed. 
 
 ' And so,' began the pink one again, 'you bring 
 the water, do you ?' 
 
 ' Yes ma'am, for mother. ' 
 
 ' Well you may bring it for us, now,' said the one 
 in green. 'Just get me some, will you, child? 
 And see that the tumbler is clean.' 
 
 Eunice dashed off into the cottage. 
 
 ' Mother, they want a tumbler ! ' 
 
 • Who does, Eunice ? ' What are you talking 
 about ?' saith Mrs. Keith. 
 
 'In the carriage' — said Eunice, breathless. 
 'They're round by the spring. Such ladies !' 
 
 ' Will dear,' said her mother smiling, 'you must 
 tell the ladi.s I am wry sorry that I have only 
 a nme; to offer them. Ybu know pussy broke our 
 last tumbler.' 
 
 1 But 'I" you think t hey can drink out of that ? ' — 
 
 Bald Eunice, looking very doubtfully at the white
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 19 
 
 earthen mug which her mother handed down from 
 the cupboard. 
 
 ' I think they can, if they are thirsty.' 
 
 4 O puss, puss !' — cried Eunice in a tone of great 
 discomfort. 
 
 ' Never mind lecturing the kitten till you come 
 back, Eunice,' said her mother. 'Run away, my 
 child : always do promptly what you mean to do.' 
 
 But still Eunice hesitated, — then very unwill- 
 ingly took up the little mug and went off to the 
 spring. There dipped and poured out, dipped and 
 poured out, as if finding a leaf or a speck or some- 
 thing else to displease her every time ; until at last 
 the carriage load lost all their patience, and the 
 coachman shouted out: ' Come, child — hurry up !' 
 
 Never was water fresher or brighter or sweet- 
 er than that which now filled the little mug, yet 
 Eunice blushed and trembled as she presented it. 
 
 ' If you please, ma'am,' she began, screening 
 her eyes as much from the ladies as the sun — 
 
 ' What kind of a thing is that ? ' broke in the 
 youngest and gayest of the fairies. ' Get me a gob- 
 let, child, or a glass tumbler, — do you hear ? I 
 can't drink out of a flower pot.' 
 
 The rest laughed, and Eunice blushed deeper and 
 deeper.
 
 2Q cross CORNERS. 
 
 ' Pussy broke our tumbler, only last week, ma'am/ 
 she said, feeling very much abashed. 'Mother 
 says she's sorry she has nothing but this to send. 
 But it isn't a flowerpot — it's a mug.' 
 
 « O — is it ?' said the pink fairy. 'Dear me, how- 
 one picks up knowledge ! Broke your tumbler, 
 child ? Did you never see but one tumbler in your 
 life, for pity's sake ? ' 
 
 'Who is Pussy?' questioned an older lady in 
 white. ' Your little sister ?' 
 
 ' Pussy's my kitten.' 
 
 'Well this is certainly the most comical place ! ' 
 said the pink one with a laugh. ' They buy one 
 tumbler, and give it to the cat for a plaything ! I 
 wonder what water tastes like, out of a mug ? ' 
 
 ' I am going to try.' said another. ' Mug or no 
 mug, a drink I must have.' And she took the de- 
 spised pieee of pottery and raised it to her lips. 
 
 'The water is cold,' slie said, stopping to look 
 al her companions. ' And the mug is clean. I 
 shall see the bottom of it. — There, little girl, — now 
 you may fetch some more.' 
 
 Eunice did fetch some more, once, twice, and 
 again, until all the ladies were satisfied But it 
 took a while. 
 
 1 1 declare,' said one ofthem at last, 'it's a s^ame
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 21 
 
 to keep the child trotting so, in this suffocating 
 heat. Do have done, all of you. Little girl, are 
 there strawberries in the woods hereabouts ? ' 
 
 'Not in the woods so much, ma'am,' said Eunice, 
 'but in the fields there are whole quantities. And 
 about the edge of the woods, too.' 
 
 'O, delightful ! ' said the young lady, whom her 
 companions called Jane. ' Do you hear that, girls? 
 " Whole quantities." Well the minute they're ripe, 
 you must bring me some. Bring every single one 
 you can find, — do you hear, child? 1 live at the 
 Cross Corners Cottage, and I'm dying for strawber- 
 ries. Do you hear ? ' 
 
 'Yes ma'am, — but mother might want part of 
 them,' said little Eunice doubtfully. 
 
 ' Part of what ? the strawberries ? nonsense, 
 — she can't have them, child : you must bring them 
 all to me. I require a great many every day for 
 my health. Tell your mother I'll pay a dollar a 
 quart for them, — that'll content her, I fancy. And 
 here's for the water. Drive on.' — 
 
 ' Jane, Jane ! ' said the elder lady in white. But 
 the green fairy only laughed, and the carriage 
 whirled away in a cloud of dust, and Eunice saw 
 it no more. She stood aloDe by the roadside, with 
 the empty mug in her hand; and at her feet, very
 
 22 CA'OSS CORNERS. 
 
 much astonished to find itself there, no doubt, lay 
 a bright quarter dollar. Eunice looked at it with 
 unmistakable disgust, — then she rau round to the 
 cottage and in at the door. 
 
 ' Mother,' she said, as she set the mug down, 
 'there's twentv-five cents out in the road.' 
 
 4 In the road?' said Mrs. Keith, ' twenty-fiv< 
 cents ? Why didn't you pick them up, Eunice?' 
 
 ' it isn't " them," at all,' said the little girl with 
 a gesture of her head : ' it's it. A new quarter, 
 mother ' 
 
 ' Thai is easier yet to pick up,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 * But I don't want to do it!' said Eunice with 
 another twist of her little self, 
 
 ' What is the matter with the poor quarter ? ' 
 said Mrs. Keith. • Is it red hot ? or only brown 
 dusty ? ' 
 
 4 it's not that? said Eunice, slowly turning the 
 mug round and round upon the table. ' Mother — 
 I don't believe a single one of those ladies ever 
 n saw a mug before ! ' 
 
 • Then they have learned something this after- 
 noon 
 
 'Learned something?' questioned Eunice. 
 'Why yes/ said Mrs. Keith. 'For there really 
 good many earthen mugs in the world, and
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 23 
 
 it is well such ladies should know the fact. Pro- 
 bably they dropped the money, Eunice, and we 
 must ask Davy to take it back to them.' 
 
 ' They didn't drop it ! ' Eunice burst forth, — 
 'they just threw it down. I suppose they thought 
 I'd jump at it, — and I don't want it a bit more than 
 they do ! ' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' — said Mrs. Keith, glancing up at her 
 disturbed little daughter, and now beginning to 
 see through the case. ' But where is your kettle, 
 Eunice ? ' 
 
 ' dear, my kettle ! ' cried Eunice : ' they made 
 me forget that too. It's at the spring. Then you 
 think I ought to pick up the money, mother?' she. 
 added doubtfully. 
 
 ' Unless you would rather have me.' 
 
 But at that Eunice disappeared.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It was somewhat the way with this little girl, to 
 do her pleasant duties first, and push the unpleas- 
 ant ones into a corner. So today she would begin 
 with filling the kettle. But on her way to the 
 spring Eunice crossed over to where the money was, 
 and took a good look at that: she would not pick 
 it ur> just yet. There it lay, a bright new quarter, 
 as shining as silver and the mint could make it; 
 and looking as if it might have gonr straight from 
 the mint to its late owner's velvet purse, and never 
 have touched anything less dainty than the delicate 
 pink-kid-gloved hand which had thrown it down. 
 The dust had sprinkled its face a little, to be sure, 
 in the violence of the fall; but through that dusky 
 veil the silver gleamed out still, as fresh and white 
 and brilliant as ever. It was not at all ugly to 
 k at; and yet Eunice Keith's young forehead 
 puckered up into a very decided frown of disap- 
 proval and disgust 
 (24)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 25 
 
 '/don't want any of their quarters,' she said to 
 herself, gazing down at this particular specimen ; 
 4 and I don't see why mother does. I suppose I'll 
 have to pick it up now, in spite of everything. They 
 flung it down as if that was about all I was 
 worth ! ' — 
 
 Yes, she must certainly pick it up, but as I said, 
 not the first thing. Eunice went off to the spring, 
 and dipped her kettle full from the rippling water, 
 and then poured it out, and dipped up more, just 
 for the mere pleasure of it. Then slowly went 
 through the process a third time, out of sheer dis- 
 like of the silver quarter. And at last, suddenly 
 taking notice of the long shadows and the sinking 
 sun, Eunice caught up her kettle in haste, went 
 over to the road once more, and daintily picked 
 up the money in a corner of her apron. Then, 
 holding it as far off as the limits of the small apron 
 would allow, she marched into the house. 
 
 ' There, mother,' — she said, laying the piece of 
 silver on the very edge of Mrs. Keith's little table; 
 ' there it is ! And I'm sure / never want to see it 
 again.' 
 
 An amused gleam came into Mrs. Keith's eyes, 
 but she only answered : 
 
 ' Not in any shape, Eunice ? '
 
 26 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 • No indeed,' said the little girl decidedly. 
 ' Ihey flung it down so ' — and Eunice gave the 
 quarter a toss, bo that it clattered down upon the 
 floor, and then picked it up and laid it on the edge 
 of the table again. 
 
 Mrs. Keith gave another swift look at her little 
 daughter, a rather grave one this time, but she 
 said no more; and Eunice put the kettle on, and 
 lighted her chip tire, and then washed her hands 
 and began to set the table. It was not a large job 
 to do, tor the table was small and there was not 
 much to set on; just her mother's cup and saucer, 
 and her own little bowl; with the two small plates, 
 tin two rather large knives, and two clean, coarse 
 little napkins. What was to follow? Eunice 
 paused, apparently trying to recollect. Then she 
 ran ami looked in the bread jar, — it was empty: 
 in the small safe — but there was nothing there 
 
 ' Why mother,' she began, ' where is everything ? 
 I thought there was some bread. And we did 
 leave a great piece this noon.' 
 
 •Not a great piece,' said Mrs. Keith. 'Only a. 
 little one.' 
 
 •Well i can't find that,' said Eunice. 'Not a 
 crumb, mother ! ' 
 
 'No,' said Mrs. Keith, 'I gave it away. Little
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 27 
 
 lame Benny came in while you were out with your 
 kettle, Eunice, and I gave it to him. The child 
 had had neither breakfast nor dinner.' 
 
 ' Oh ! — the poor little thing ! ' Eunice cried, and 
 then stopped short, her sympathy for the little crip- 
 ple suddenly dashed with dismay for herself. Was 
 she therefore to have no supper ? ' But Mrs. Keith 
 did not look dismaved, so Eunice took heart. 
 
 ' Then shall I go and buy some bread, mother ?' 
 she asked. 
 
 ' If you will, dear. I must not stop work while 
 there's a bit of daylight left.' 
 
 Eunice whisked off into the next room for her 
 white sunbonnet — (always insisted on when she 
 was going of errands) — and the next minute she 
 stood at Mrs. Keith's elbow again. 
 
 ' I'm ready, mother,' she said. ' Please give me 
 the money.' 
 
 ' There it is, love,' said Mrs. Keith, with a sign of 
 her head towards the despised quarter which still 
 lay with a timid air on the very edge of the table 
 where Eunice had placed it. 
 
 ' There ? — Why you don't mean that, mother ? ' 
 cried Eunice. 
 
 ' I mean just that.' 
 
 ' I couldn't buy good bread with that ! ' said Eu
 
 28 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 nice excitedly. ' And it would stick in my throat ! ' 
 4 Hush, hush!' Mrs. Keith answered, but with- 
 out losing a single stitch. ' When you speak in 
 such haste, my child, it will neither be words of 
 wisdom nor words of truth. The money is not 
 counterfeit, and it is honestly come by; therefore 
 the bread will be good.' 
 
 ' I couldn't eat it ! ' said Eunice, her breast heav- 
 ing with a whole tumult of feelings that begged 
 leave to come out. 
 
 • Yes you could, if you were hungry,' said Mrs. 
 Keith. ' Run away now, dear, before it gets dark, 
 and buy a loaf of bread, and a pint of milk: and 
 don't lose the change, Eunice.' 
 
 4 But oh, mother !' pleaded the little girl — ' couldn't 
 you please give me some other money? Mr. Grab 
 might have this, it would just suit him.' 
 
 4 Dear,' said her mother gently, 4 this is all the 
 Lord has given me today. There is not another 
 cent in the house, Eunice.' 
 
 Eunice burst into tears, sobbing quietly as she 
 took the despised quarter and went off: but she 
 Baid qo more. Of course there was no more to be 
 said. 
 
 '0 dear! O dear!' she lamented to herself 
 be plodded sadly along the road. 4 I don't sop
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 29 
 
 why we have so little money — and the queen of She- 
 ba, and Solomon, and all those people had so much ! 
 And 1 don't see how mother can think we're not 
 poor. No bread in the house, and no money in the 
 house — only this hateful piece. If she'd only seen 
 'em throw it down,' thought the little girl, as she 
 recalled the air of the pink and blue fairies, ' I guess 
 she wouldn't want it either. Just so ' — said Eunice 
 again, giving the money a scornful toss. And the 
 money was seemingly as ready to part company as 
 Eunice herself, for it sped away out of her hand 
 and buried its face at once deep down in the dust. — 
 And when Eunice looked, behold the quarter was 
 out of sight ! ' 
 
 Now there are some things which you hold very 
 cheap indeed until you have lost them, and then 
 you would give a good deal more than their worth 
 to get them back once more. Eunice presently 
 forgot all about the ladies, their airs and their 
 graces and their bad manners, and remembered only 
 that the lost quarter meant bread and milk for 
 supper, and "change" to get breakfast. And 
 worse than all, the losing it meant grieving 
 her mother. Just at first, while she felt sure to 
 find it, pride made a fight. 
 
 ' I'm sure i" never want to see its ugly face again,'
 
 30 CROSS CUAALtiS. 
 
 she said over and over to herself, as she went back 
 and forth across the dusty road. But all the same, 
 Eunice was extremely ready for her supper; and 
 though she could truly say she had not meant to 
 lose the money, that fact did not in the least help 
 the search. And there could be no doubt she had 
 been very careless. And where could it be ! — 
 
 What if her mother, who had worked so hard 
 every minute of all that long day, should have to go 
 to bed without even the refreshment a bit of bread 
 could give ? Eunice sobbed right out again at that ; 
 and the tears came so fast, that if the quarter had 
 been in plain sight she could hardly have seen it, — . 
 aud if it had been at all soft-hearted, it must have 
 immediately jumped up and shewn its face. Oh, 
 how foolish and naughty she had been ! — and oh, 
 what should she do ? It was no sort of use to look 
 for anything with such tear-blinded eyes; and the 
 depth of dust was as bad as a haystack for hiding 
 needles or even quarter dollars. The case seemed 
 hopeless. But then supper, — and breakfast! 
 
 ' Eunice Keith ! — and crying like anybody else ! 
 cried a cheery voice, which grew sober with the 
 knowledge o\ her grief, and yet somehow kept the 
 laugh through it all. l Why Eunice, I thought you 
 
 I' It all that sort of thing to the steam engines and
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 31 
 
 dropping wells. What's the matter, small child ?' 
 
 It was a tall, overgrown boy that spoke, — over- 
 grown perhaps only because he had outgrown his 
 clothes ; tramping along the highway in garments 
 tco short and too straight for him, and just kept 
 from bursting out at elbows by sundry broad 
 strong patches where the holes would have been. 
 Barefooted, and with an old sunburnt straw hat to 
 cover his wealth of curly hair ; a heavy spade on 
 his shoulder, a very small dinner pail in his hand, 
 
 '0 Davy!' said Eunice, running up to him and 
 seizing the freest hand, pail and all, in both her 
 own, ' I'm in dreadful trouble !' — 
 
 ' So it looks,' said David, regarding her. ' That's 
 plain. But what I don't understand is, how you 
 went so slow that the trouble got hold of you. 
 Now I can always easier run than fight.' 
 
 1 Ah, I was so silly !' said Eunice, pouring out her 
 story. 'And when some ladies got me to fetch 
 water for them, and then threw down money to 
 pay for it, I was angry and wouldn't pick it up.' 
 
 David whistled slightly. 
 
 ' Well you did walk slow, sure enough,' he said. 
 
 'And then mother made me'— went on Eunice. 
 'And then behold it was all we had ; and so I 
 brought it along to get bread and milk for supper.
 
 32 CROSS COfaYEXS. 
 
 and on the way I got angry again, and went to 
 tossing the money about as the lady did. And 
 then it hopped right down into the dust, and now 
 I can't find it !' — 
 
 The little girl's face grew long again: David 
 took up his whistling where he had left it off. 
 
 1 Monty isn't so scarce in your pocket as it is in 
 mine, I should say,' he remarked. ' But whatever 
 made you angry, small child ?' 
 
 ' Because they threw it down so,' said Eunice 
 reddening. 
 
 ' Uncivil messengers, were they ?' said David, 
 slowly pushing the dust about with his bare foot. 
 4 And did you think it was their money they threw 
 down ?' 
 
 ' Why of course I did !' said Eunice. ' It must 
 have l>cen, you know, Davy.' 
 
 'Small child, small child! — what a foolish child 
 you were, 1 said David. 'Didn't you just tell me 
 you had no other money in the house ?' 
 'Not another cent.' 
 
 'Then don't von see,' said David, stopping short 
 and confronting her, ' that it was the Lord's?' And 
 that being so, they couldn't spoil it, small child, 
 Dot if they tried their nicest.' 
 
 •Why Davy!' said little Eunice, catching
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 33 
 
 her breath as she looked at him. 'The Lord's 
 money ? ' 
 
 ' To be sure it was,' said David. ' Just that and 
 no other, Eunice Keith. ''The silver and gold are 
 the Lord's," all the world over. He knew a little 
 change would come handy* tonight, and so he sent 
 it along by the first chance. Maybe all the real 
 angels were busy, and he just took up with these 
 folks. But they brought the money all right, — he 
 saw to that; and then you flung it away.' 
 
 Eunice stood gazing at him with wide open eyes. 
 
 'But if it had been the Lord's money,' she said, 
 ' wouldn't he have sent more ? A whole dollar, 
 perhaps, — only think, Davy ! ' 
 
 ' Very nice to think of,' said David, ' but it's just 
 as it happens about the Lord sending it. Some- 
 times it's more, and sometimes it's less. Just as it 
 is with the birds, you know, Eunice. Tonight 
 they're in a green meadow, and tomorrow in a sandy 
 plain, but there's always something ; and "that 
 thou givest them, they gather." The Lord has 
 sent me one cent at a time, often enough.' 
 
 ' And you always take it ? ' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Always — and glad enough too,' said David with 
 a laugh. 'Why small child, whatever the Lord 
 sends has a blessing in it. Can't you tell when
 
 34 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 things come from him ? I always know 'em, right 
 off.' 
 
 4 But how ? ' said Eunice wondering.   How 
 coidd I know, Davy ?' 
 
 1 See here,' said David, taking a little knotty bit 
 of white wood from his pocket, ' put your nose to 
 that, Eunice.' 
 
 ' it's been among lavender,' said the little girl, 
 holding the wood up to her face. ' And it's ever 
 so sweet.' 
 
 'Just so,' said David. ' And just so, all things 
 that come from God are sweet too: rough hand- 
 ling by the way can't spoil 'em. They've "been 
 among" his loving plans and purposes; and 
 every single one is " perfumed with myrrh and 
 frankincense" from the Lord's own touch. See — 
 I've notched that stick and whittled it down, and 
 cut all sorts of jogs in it, — and then couldn't cut 
 the knots out; but the scent of the lavender holds 
 to it yet, Why small child, what do we care for 
 anything, if we have the Lord's love ?' And David 
 chanted joyously, in a clear, round voice, but still 
 searching on and on across the dusty road: 
 
 " Many waters eammt queneh the love, 
 
 " Ami Booda cannot wash it away. 
 
 " If one should give all the wealth of his house for love, 
 
 " Treading down they triad upon it."
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 35 
 
 Eunice nodded her head in grave approval of 
 the singing. 
 
 ' I think it's very good they've got you in the 
 choir,' she said. ' But David — what do you mean 
 exactly ? ' 
 
 4 Mean ?' said David, — ' why I mean that God's 
 children should take the good of everything that 
 comes to them — or that don't come. They've no 
 business to feel poor : and no reason either.' 
 
 ' Well, so mother says,' answered little Eunice. 
 ' I guess she thinks we're real rich, Davy. But I 
 don't see how she can ; I don't. Just think of the 
 Queen of Sheba, and all she had ! — and Queen Es- 
 ther too !' 
 
 4 If you read the Bible only in spots, it'll puzzle 
 you, like as not,' said David. ' Do you know the 
 Lord's prayer, Eunice Keith ?' 
 
 4 Why of course I do,' said Eunice. ' I say it 
 ever so often.' 
 
 ' What do the verv first words mean ? ' 
 
 ' Mean ? ' Eunice repeated. ' The very first ? ' 
 
 4 Yes,' answered David. ' What do you mean 
 when you say them ? ' 
 
 4 I — don't know,' said Eunice slowly. 4 They're 
 just words to God, Davy.' 
 
 4 But words to God ought to mean something,'
 
 36 CROSS CORA'EXS. 
 
 said David, patiently crossing the road again on his 
 dusty search. Eunice followed him. 
 
 1 1 suppose I thought it was a way to begin,' she 
 I, studying the matter. ' Just a sort of title you 
 know, or a name.' 
 
 • Yes,' said David, ' but " the name of the Lord 
 i strong tower," and it won't do to stand out- 
 side. It is when " the righteous runneth into it,'» 
 Eunice, that he is "sate."' 
 
 'What do they mean to you, Davy?' said the 
 little girl, looking grave. 
 
 •Those first words of the Lord's prayer?' said 
 David. ' Why small child, they mean so many 
 things, that I don't know where to begin. But I 
 think this comes first: a sort of feeling of what 
 somebody calls " the creature and the Creator." I 
 read that in a paper once. And then I hunted it 
 up in my Bible. 
 
 ' "O Lord, thou art our father; we are the clay, 
 and thou our potter; and we are all the work of 
 thy hands." Is. 64. 8.' 
 
 • Well ? ' said Eunice. 
 
 'Don't you see?' David answered. 'A man 
 
 thai makes a bowl or a dish, makes it what shape 
 
 he likes, and puts it where he Likes, and does with 
 
 what he likes. And it's nobodvs business but
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 37 
 
 his own. Some of 'em he trims up, and some of 'em 
 he doesn't.' 
 
 ' But I'd like to be one of the trimmed up dishes, 
 said Eunice, thinking of the carriage load of 
 fairies. 
 
 ' So it seems,' said David. ' But I'd like to be 
 just what the Lord made me for, and to do just 
 what he meant me to do. A plain white mug, in 
 his hand, can be just as clean — and hold as much — 
 as one of those fussy, gilt-edged things. So when 
 I pray that prayer, small child, I mean, ' Lord, 
 thou hast made me, — do with me what thou wilt.' 
 
 ' Suppose it was something bad ? ' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Couldn't be,' said David. ' Not if the Lord did it.' 
 
 4 It might be disagreeable,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' No it couldn't. Not if I'd made up my mind to 
 like what the Lord liked. 
 
 ' "All that he hlesses is our good; 
 And unblest good is ill : 
 And all is right that seems most hard, 
 If it he his sweet will ! " ' 
 
 ' I guess you read a good many papers and 
 things,' said Eunice with a wise shake of her head. 
 ' Davy, what do you think he made you for ? ' 
 
 David laughed a little, as if half shy of his own 
 thought.
 
 38 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' I don't know yet,' he said. ' I haven't found 
 out. I'm trying hard to think he meant me for a 
 minister.' 
 
 ' ! ' — said Eunice in great surprise, glancing 
 from tin' bare feet to the honest sunburnt face : 'do 
 you? I think you'd make a very nice minister, 
 Davy,' she went on doubtfully, — 'a real, real good 
 one. But then — Davy, — you|d have to have shoes 
 first. And a great many other things,' ended 
 Eunice comprehensively. 
 
 ' Fact," said David.—' I'd need a good deal of 
 trimming up, shouldn't T? But if the Lord chose to 
 give me all the rest, he wouldn't stop at the shoes. 
 They'll come if they're wanted, small child.' 
 
 ' What's the next thought ? ' said Eunice, knit- 
 ting her brows as if she found the first one not 
 to her taste. 
 
 'Well sometimes it's just a sort of going over 
 the other,' said David. ' Encouraging myself in the 
 Lord, you know. Beeause folks are vexatious, ami 
 things are rough; and it's a wonderful help to get 
 your mind on something bright and steady. For 
 you see, Eunice, it's little odds how people ti 
 ms, when we can set our hearts on such words as 
 these. 
 
 '"Doubtless thou art our Father, though Abra
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 39 
 
 ham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us 
 not: thou, O Lord, art our Father." — Is. lxiii. 16. 
 
 ' And then it all conies quick in a minute: 
 
 ' " Behold, what manner of love the Father hath 
 bestowed upon us, that we should be called the 
 sons of God." — John 3. 1. 
 
 ' Sometimes I just stay thinking of that, — it is 
 so wonderful.' 
 
 ' Is it ?' said Eunice. ' I never thought about it 
 before.' 
 
 ' Eunice Keith,' said the boy, ' do you see me ?' 
 
 ' Why yes,' said Eunice, 4 of course I do.' 
 
 ' Take a good look at me now,' said David, — 
 4 bare feet, old coat, good-for-nothing heart, and all.' 
 
 ' Well I can't see your heart,' said Eunice laugh- 
 ing, ' and I think it's good for a great deal, besides; 
 but I see all the rest, Davy.' 
 
 'Very well,' said David. * Now look up at the 
 sky, and just listen a minute : " When I consider 
 thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and 
 the stars which thou hast ordained ; what is man 
 that thou art mindful of him ? or the son of man 
 that thou visitest him ?" '— Ps. 8. 3, 4. 
 
 ' It makes you very happy, doesn't it Davy?' said 
 Eunice, with a wondering look at the bright face. 
 
 ' Happy ?' said David. ' Why here's one sun-
 
 40 CROSS CORNEAS. 
 
 shine wrapping me all up in its glory, and there's 
 the other brighter yet, just filling my whole heart. 
 Ami I know it is all for the sake of "that Princely 
 I »in', my Lord Jesus."' 
 
 1 I like- your prayer very much, Dav} r ,' said little 
 Eunice. ' I think it's beautiful. But if you find so 
 many things in all the words, I shouldn't think 
 you'd ever get through.' 
 
 David laughed, — a happy, joyous ring of pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 ' You don't suppose that's all ?' he said. ' Why 
 every single word has got more in it than that. 
 There's your money, this minute!' — 
 
 An I David, still pushing about the roadside 
 dust as he talked, suddenly pushed into sight 
 the very quarter dollar which had made all the 
 
 fuss. 
 
 ' My money !' cried Eunice, darting upon it. '0 
 I'm so glad! thank you, Davy! — you're the 
 very best boy that ever was. Now we'll walk 
 on fast to the baker's, and you can tell me some 
 more' 
 
 • \ot another word— nor another step — your 
 way, tonight,' said David. 'Time's more than 
 up, and I must run lor it. ( Jood-night, small 
 child,- -and don't forget whose child you are,
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 41 
 
 —and off he went down a cross road at the 
 double quick, while Eunice ran on to the 
 baker's. 
 
 'Whose child?' she repeated to herself, as she 
 hurried along. ' Why I'm mother's, of course !'
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A loaf of bread and a pint of milk and sundry pre- 
 cious coppers in the way of change, are quite 
 enough to burden two small hands: and Eunice 
 found hers so full on the way home from the baker's, 
 that it took all her thoughts and all her care to 
 keep them steady and safe. 
 
 Coming into the small cottage at last, with every - 
 ig all right, she set herself first to rouse up the 
 lir • and hurry the tea; putting off all talks for the 
 present. For the dusk was falling fast now, and 
 already her mother had laid down her work, and 
 sat idly by the window, folding her busy hands. 
 It was the only time of day when they ever really 
 I, — those few minutes between daylight and 
 candlelight Candles were too costly to be lit be- 
 fore tea, and that meal was generally taken amid 
 the shadows. Twilights were long just now; and 
 as Eunice remarked, there was never such a va- 
 riety upon the table thai there could be much dan- 
 (42)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 43 
 
 ger of making mistakes, or that mistakes would be 
 very serious. The brown loaf, the white milk — or 
 perhaps only a pitcher of the fair spring water: 
 Mrs. Keith's tea table rarely boasted greater dainties 
 than these. The little brown teapot came on too 
 when it could, and always wild fruit in its season ; 
 but neither one in the company of sugar and cream. 
 Still, strawberries are a great thing, even in their 
 own unadorned sweetness; and Eunice thought she 
 had good cause to decline any proposal which 
 should cut off this welcome change in their sup- 
 plies. But would her mother think as she did ? 
 Somehow this afternoon's talk and work had shak- 
 en the child's ideas into a good deal of confusion. 
 Eunice fell into a brown study again, as she scalded 
 the wee earthen teapot, and put in carefully 
 the minute pinch of tea for her mother's cup. 
 Could her mother ever be willing to sell their straw- 
 berries ? — and of course raspberries too, and blue- 
 berries; and the wild prickly gooseberries which 
 were the delight of Eunice's heart. She turned 
 round to ask the question, — then stopped to listen; 
 for Mrs. Keith was singing softly there in the win- 
 dow, looking out towards the fast fading colours of 
 the evening sky, and the fast brightening glory of 
 the evening star.
 
 ±4 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 Many a time had Mrs. Keith rested her heart 
 with AVhittier's lovely lines : 
 
 " I know not where his islands lift 
 
 " Their frond ed palms in air. 
 " I only know 1 cannot drift 
 
 " Beyond hie love and care." 
 
 But as days went on, and life pressed harder, — 
 it was a time of dead stagnation in all the village 
 industries, — the poet's thought had rung itself out 
 in other and closer-fitting words in the heart of his 
 unknown admirer. Eunice held her breath to 
 listen. 
 
 " I know not where those treasure ships 
 
 " Lie waiting on the tide; 
 " But well 1 know the ebb and flow 
 
 '' Are thine alone to guide. 
 
 6' 
 
 "I know not when the wind will shift 
 
 " That holds these out at sea : 
 " But well I know, they come and go 
 
 "Not for the wind, l»ut Thee." 
 
 There was a quiet, sweet, contented chime in 
 the words that found no echo in the heart of the 
 young listener. Eunice could not have told why, 
 bul i he song made her feel lonely. 
 
 Motlnr,' she said, sliding her little hand into 
 .Mrs. Keith's, ' your tea's ready. And my milk.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 lb 
 
 ' And my Eunice,' said Mrs. Keith, wrapping 
 aer arms round the child, and drawing her oft" to 
 the table. ' Did you have a pleasant walk, love ?' 
 
 ' O yes,' said Eunice : ' pretty pleasant. At least 
 part of it was. Part of it was very pleasant. I met 
 Davy, mother, and he told me such beautiful 
 things.' 
 
 ' Davy's heart is so full of beautiful things,' said 
 Mrs. Keith, ' that he cannot help speaking them 
 out. What difl he tell you tonight, Eunice ?' 
 
 'Well he said one very queer thing,' said Eunice, 
 beginning as usual at the end of her story. ' He 
 told me not to forget whose child I was. As if I 
 could, you know ! ' and Eunice laughed merrily at 
 the idea. ' I guess I sha'n't make such a disagree- 
 able mistake as that in a hurry.' 
 
 ' Ah I think I know what David meant,' said 
 Mrs. Keith. 'And you are quite sure you never 
 forget, Eunice ? ' 
 
 ' Why mother!' — and the little girl looked hurt 
 and half ready to cry: 'how could I? — when I 
 love you so much better than anybody else in the 
 whole world ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Keith smiled at her very reassuringly. 
 
 ' I do not think you would ever mistake any 
 body else for me, love,' she said; ' and yet I under
 
 46 CROSS COKXERS. 
 
 stand Davy. But what made him say that, 
 Eunice ?' 
 
 'Why — I hardly know myself,' said Eunice, re- 
 turning to her bread and milk with a quiet heart. 
 'You see, mother, in the first place I lost the 
 money.' 
 
 ' Lost it ? ' Mrs. Keith repeated. 
 
 'Yes ma'am, — that was before Davy came along. 
 I guess I was very foolish,' said Eunice looking 
 down, • and so I felt vexed, mother, — and so then I 
 was making believe throw it down as the lady 
 did. And then the first thing I knew, it just hid 
 itself in the dust.' 
 
 ' And took with it all my little daughter's fool- 
 ishness, I dare say,' said Mrs. Keith. 'That is 
 what happens when we throw away something the 
 Lord has given us. After it is gone, we grow wise, 
 and know its worth.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Eunice shaking her head, 'I knew, 
 quick enough. But you see, mother, I never did 
 feel as if God gave that, — not a bit. It looked so 
 ugly.' 
 
 • It' you wear a blue veil you will see a blue 
 world, 1 said Mrs. Keith; 'but it will not be the 
 fault of the grass and trees.' 
 
 'No, I s'pose it was all my fault,' said Eunice
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 47 
 
 with a little sigh. ' But I am glad the quarter is 
 changed, anyway. The milk don't look blue, 
 mother, — not so very.' 
 
 But Mrs. Keith did not at once answer that ; so 
 suddenly the lesson she was giving returned upon 
 herself. For the milk was blue ! — and with no 
 fault of the eyes that looked at it: and tears 
 rushed up and stayed the mother's examination, 
 as she thought of the cream she would fain have 
 had for her darling, and could not afford to buy. 
 Rich yellow cream, such as in her own young 
 days had always crowned the bowls of bread 
 and milk But Eunice went on eating her sup- 
 per with happy childish appetite and unconcern. 
 
 'It isn't bad at all,' she said critically; 'and he 
 gave us a good deal for a pint, mother. Well, you 
 see, when I lost the money and got so many tears 
 in my eyes that I couldn't find it, then Davy came 
 along and scolded me a little, in his nice way. I 
 always feel scolded, though what he says don't 
 sound a bit like it. And then he talked more to 
 me, and found my money. But I didn't know the 
 Lord's prayer meant so much, mother.' 
 
 'So much as what ? ' 
 
 ' As Davy says,' answered Eunice, thoughtfully, 
 finishing her bread and milk. ' Why he found
 
 48 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 enough in just a little bit of it, to last him a 
 month, I guess. Mother, here's a half slice of 
 bread all cut.' — 
 
 - Eat it up, then, — I do not want it,' her mother 
 answered. ' And such a small piece would be sure 
 to get dry.' 
 
 ' Yes, I s'pose it would be dry enough by break- 
 fast time, so I may as well,' said Eunice. ' Isn't it 
 funny, mother ? 1 can almost always eat a little 
 piece more' — and you never can.' 
 
 The child laughed, munching her little dry 
 crust (already quite 'dry enough") with right good 
 eagerness: the mother was very still. 
 
 I know not when the wind will shift 
 That holds them out at sea. — 
 
 So the words seemed to echo through the little 
 room. But sweeter words followed: 
 
 " Which neither have storehouse nor barn, yet 
 your heavenly Father feedeth them." 
 
 • We haven't eaten more than half/ — so Eunice's 
 young voice broke in; 'there'll be plenty for 
 breakfasl without my little piece. I wonder what 
 Davy's gol for supper? Mother, sometime wheo 
 strawberries are ripe, mayn't I invite him to come 
 to tea?'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 49 
 
 ' You may invite him before that,' said Mrs. 
 Keith, smiling at Eunice's long words. • No need 
 to wait for strawberries, love.' 
 
 ' They make so much more, you know,' said the 
 little girl, with another glance at the small half 
 loaf. ' Davy must get very hungry, mother, for 
 he digs and digs the whole day long. 
 
 'Does he?' said Mrs. Keith quietly. 'Well, we 
 will do the best we can, Eunice.' 
 
 But Eunice did not answer: the mention of 
 strawberries had brought up another thought. 
 
 ' Mother,' she said suddenly, ' would you like to 
 let somebody else have all our strawberries ? ' 
 
 \ Why no,' said Mrs. Keith, ' I do not think I 
 should like it at all, Eunice. Unless it were some- 
 one who needed them more than we did.' 
 
 ' The green, lady said she was dying for strawber- 
 ries,' observed Eunice. 
 
 'That sounds as if she was still living quite 
 comfortably,' said Mrs. Keith. ' So she need not 
 have them all, Eunice.' 
 
 ' But she said she'd give a dollar a quart.' — 
 
 Eunice jerked the words out as if they stung her; 
 
 but she was startled by her mother's eager cry: 
 
 ' A dollar a quart ! Eunice, you must have 
 
 misunderstood.' 
 4
 
 50 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 4 No indeed,' said Eunice steadily ; ' that was 
 just what she said. Because I told her you wanted 
 them — and she said she guessed that would con- 
 tent you. As if we liked money better than straw- 
 berries ! ' added the little girl indignantly. 
 
 But again Mrs. Keith made no answer; and 
 when at last she spoke, it was about something 
 quite different, Eunice thought. 
 
 • And so, daughter, you never forget whose child 
 you are ? ' 
 
 ' I couldn't, you see,' said Eunice. ' There's 
 something to make me remember it every minute. 
 So I don't know what Davy meant.' 
 
 ' Well I think 1 do,' said her mother. • At least 
 I think we can find out. Clear away the table, 
 dear, and we will try.'
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 So Mrs. Keith lit her candle and took up the end- 
 less binding and stitching once more ; and Eunice 
 frisked softly about the room, clearing the table, 
 washing the plates, and brushing up the crumbs; 
 until the bare old kitchen was as neat as hands 
 could make it. Then she drew the white curtains 
 across the window, brought her own little bench 
 and her mother's big Bible as near as might be to 
 the somewhat faint and wavering centre of illumi- 
 nation, and took her seat with an air of happy ex- 
 pectancy. ' Shall I read first, mother ? ' she said. 
 4 Or are you going to talk first ?' 
 
 ' We will do both together,' said Mrs. Keith, 
 who had stopped her work long enough to make 
 three or four notes on an old card. 
 
 4 Take these verses in order, dear, and let us read 
 them and talk them over one by one.' 
 
 4 1 never read a great deal in — Chronicles,' said 
 
 Eunice, bringing out the long word with great de- 
 
 (51)
 
 ,-,1' CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 liberation as she fluttered over the leaves of her 
 Bible. ' It's all " the thirteenth of Huppah," and 
 "the two and twentieth of Gauimel," and "the 
 fifth of Nethaniah." I s'pose some people under- 
 stand it. this verse don't look, hard.' And Eu- 
 nice read, first to herselt and then aloud: 
 
 "I will be his Father, and he shall be my son." 
 
 1 Chr. 17. 13. 
 
 ' Well, mother,' she said, looking up. 
 
 'Well, daughter,' said Mrs. Keith, — 'if God is 
 our Father, then we are his children.' 
 
 'Yes, of course, — so Da vy says: I know that,' — 
 said Eunice. ' I thought your verses would be 
 something different, mother.' 
 
 ' Find the next one,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 'The first chapter of Isaiah and the second verse. 
 I like, Isaiah,' said Eunice, fluttering the leaves 
 again. ' It's so funny, about the '• wimples," and 
 the " crisping pins." This is the place: 
 
   H'-ar, O heavens, and give ear. < » < arth: for the 
 Lord hath spoken. I have nourished and brought 
 up children, and they have rebelled against me." 
 
 Is. 1. 2. 
 
 She paused and looked up again. 
 
 'There wen- some people who forgot,' said Mrs. 
 Keith
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 56 
 
 ' Forgot whose children they were,' said Eunice, 
 « when they rebelled. Yes, I s'pose they did. But 
 do you mean, mother' — and again she came to a 
 lull stop. Mrs. Keith leaned over Eunice for an 
 instant, and parted the Bible leaves at another 
 place. 
 
 ' Read there,' she said, — and Eunice read: 
 
 " Do ye thus requite the Lord, foolish people, 
 and unwise? is not he thy Father that hath 
 bought thee ? hath he not made thee and estab- 
 lished thee ? " 
 
 ' " Made and established," — that's like " nourish- 
 ed and brought up," ' said Eunice, comparing the 
 two passages. 
 
 1 Yet they forgot,' said Mrs. Keith. ' And when 
 people forget the love and power and wisdom of 
 the Lord, then they easily become rebels, and des- 
 pise his authority and refuse his care.' 
 
 'Yes, I daresay they do,' said Eunice. 'But you 
 don't think / am ever a rebel, mother ?' 
 
 ' What does the Bible think ?' 
 
 'About me?' 
 
 'About you.' 
 
 Eunice pondered, looking down at her verse. 
 
 ' Doesn't this mean big grown up people ? ' she 
 said.
 
 54 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 Tt means the Jews first, and then anybody who 
 might be a loving child of God, and is instead a 
 rebel.' 
 
 ' Well I gness I don't know what a Bible rebel is, 
 yet,' said Eunice contentedly. ' So I'll try another 
 verse.' 
 
 • A son honoureth his father, and a servant his 
 master : if then I be a father, where is mine honour? 
 and if I be a master, where is my fear ? saith the 
 Lord of hosts." Mai. 1. 6. 
 
 ' O but I do honour the Lord ! ' said Eunice look- 
 ing up: Mrs. Keith was silent. 
 
 'I do, mother, really,' the child repeated. 
 
 4 If Davy had found a little girl crying her eyes 
 out because she had only bread and milk for 
 supper, I wonder what he would have said to 
 her? ' 
 
 ' He'd have shamed me, well,' said Eunice. 
 ' But I never do cry over what you give me, 
 mother.' 
 
 ' Yet a little girl cried because God had given 
 her a quarter to buy the bread with. ii If I then 
 be a Father, where is mine honour"?' 
 
 ' I guess that was real bad of nie,' said Eunice 
 colouring. 'But the people were so ugly, that 
 I never thought God had sent it.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 55 
 
 ' You forgot whose child you were.' Again 
 Eunice sat thinking. 
 
 ' That's what Davy meant ! ' she said. ' But it 
 seems so different, somehow. Different from my 
 being your child, you know.' 
 
 ' In what way is it different ? ' 
 
 4 Why mother,' said Eunice, ' in every way, I 
 think ! ' 
 
 ' Tell me some of the ways, and let us see how 
 the Bible will answer.' 
 
 ' I guess the Bible don't say anything about what 
 / mean,' said Eunice, shaking her head. ' There's 
 one thing — this minute. Just as soon as I want 
 to know anything, you're all ready to tell.' 
 
 4 And you think the Lord is not ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Eunice. ' If I was in ever so much 
 of a puzzle, I don't believe he'd explain.' 
 
 ' Turn to the epistle of James, the first chapter 
 and fifth verse,' said Mrs Keith. ' What does the 
 Lord himself say about that?' 
 
 Eunice turned and read. 
 
 ' " If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of 
 God."' 
 
 Eunice studied the words for some time in si- 
 lence; coming at lest to a conclusion on at least 
 one point.
 
 56 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 I s'pose you get a great deal that way, mother,' 
 she said. ' But I didn't mean wisdom exactly, you 
 know, but puzzles. Now when I ask you, you al- 
 ways tell.' 
 
 ' Turn back to the thirty-second Psalm, and see 
 what you find in the eighth verse. Remember, 
 they are the Lord's own words.' So Eunice read: 
 
 44 1 will instruct thee and teach thee in the way 
 which thou shalt go : I will guide thee with mine 
 eye." Ps. 32. 8. 
 
 4 Yes, you do that, when you don't want to speak 
 out loud,' said Eunice. 4 But then — ' 
 
 ' Then what— ? ' 
 
 ' Why if I'm not looking at you I don't see it.' — 
 
 'True,' said Mrs. Keith: 'and so one whose eyes 
 are not " ever unto the Lord," misses many a 
 sign of the Lord's will, and many a token of his 
 love.' 
 
 ' But then if I'm not looking at you, you general- 
 ly speak,' said Eunice. Again the mother leaned 
 over, and pointed to another passage in the <>ld 
 Bible. 
 
 "Thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying. 
 This is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the 
 right hand, and when ye turn to the left." 
 
 Ts. 30. 21.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 57 
 
 ' But I never did, mother ! ' said Eunice, looking 
 up with very wide open eyes. 
 
 ' Can you guess why ? ' 
 
 ' Maybe the Lord never spoke to me,' said Eu- 
 nice. 
 
 1 He speaks to everybody. But do you remem- 
 ber, love, one day when you sat in the door, and 
 Jane Campbell called you to come with her, and I 
 called to you not to go ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I remember,' said Eunice. ' It was very 
 queer ! I heard her and I didn't hear you. So I 
 went.' 
 
 ' So you went. But not because I had not 
 spoken.' 
 
 ' I can't tell why I didn't hear you,' said Eunice, 
 looking perplexed. ' I did want to go very much, — 
 but then I never heard you say a thing.' 
 
 ' I think I know why,' said the mother. ' You 
 were so eager to go, that you either never tried to 
 think what I would say, or else you hurried off lest 
 you might hear. Which do you think it was ? ' 
 
 Eunice flushed up. ' Mother,' she said, ' I do be- 
 lieve it was both ! —Just a little, you know. But I 
 never knew it before.' 
 
 'Sometimes,' said Mrs. Keith, 'the Lord speaks 
 to us in such a tone that we cannot choose but
 
 58 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 hear; and often it is only in a soft low whisper. If 
 we are listening for his word, eager to do his will 
 ami his only, then we shall hear it; but if we are 
 set upon our own way, caring nothing for the 
 Lord's good pleasure, then we easily miss his call, 
 and go blundering on in our own foolishness. "The 
 meek will he teach his way;" but those who " will 
 none of his counsel," shall be "filled with their 
 own devices." ' 
 
 'Well. T got enough of mine that day,' said 
 Eunice. ' Tore my frock, and scratched my face, 
 and vexed you. But mother — ' and she looked up 
 wistfully, — 'don't you ever get puzzled, then ?' 
 
 ' I need quite often to pray David's prayer : 
 "Make thy way plain before my face,"' — Mrs. Keith 
 answered. And then she bent down to kiss the 
 child's brow and lips, and told her it was time she 
 should stop talking and go to bed.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Now it fell out next day that David was busy from 
 morning to night in the shoemaker's garden ; and 
 thus towards evening, when Eunice carried home 
 her mother's work and received another bundle of 
 shoes to bind, she found her friend just finishing 
 his task and almost ready to set out for home. So 
 she waited for him, and they walked on together. 
 Truly David's home was a poor one : a dark garret 
 loft, and very uncomfortable meals, in the house of 
 the village baker; for which he paid by wood-chop- 
 ping, water-fetching, and odds and ends of all sorts 
 of work. But David never complained. He wore 
 the brightest, cleanest, quietest face in all the 
 village. 
 
 ' I'm so glad to see you, Davy!' Eunice began. 
 ' I want to talk to you ever so much.' 
 
 ' Talk away then,' said David with a smile at his 
 
 little companion. 'More puzzles, Eunice Keith?' 
 
 ' yes, always more puzzles, I think,' said 
 
 ^59)
 
 (30 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 Eunice. ' You see, Davy, mother talked to me ever 
 so much last night, and I read to her (in the Bible, 
 you know) and after all I didn't seem to under- 
 stand.' 
 
 ' Did you tell her so? ' inquired David. 
 
 'No,' said Eunice, 'I was ashamed. After she'd 
 taken so much trouble, and when it was all so plain 
 to her. And then I thought I did understand a 
 Little, just while she was talking. But I don't 
 now.' 
 
 'About God being our Father?' said David. 
 
 Eunice nodded. 
 
 'I don't know as you need have felt so,' said 
 David thoughtfully, — ' but then if you had told 
 her — and she had talked on all night you mightn't 
 have been a bit better off.' 
 
 ' Mightn't I ? ' said Eunice, opening her eyes. 
 
 ' No,' said David: " With the heart man believ- 
 eth," but with the head he just gets into puzzles. 
 That's a hard lesson to learn, small child; and I'm 
 not sure that anyone can teach it but the Lord him- 
 self. When you go to school to him, then you'll 
 know.' 
 
 'Why David!' said Eunice. 'What funny 
 things you do say ! ' 
 
   True ones,' said David.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 61 
 
 ' But why is it hard ? ' said Eunice. ' It sounds 
 so easy.' 
 
 ' Well,' said David, ' it's hard chiefly because we 
 don't want to learn it.' 
 
 1 you are very much mistaken there,' said Eu- 
 nice. ' Of course I wanted to learn it !' 
 
 ' Not by heart,' said David. ' And heads can't 
 manage such questions, as I said.' 
 
 ' By heart,' Eunice repeated slowly. 
 
 ' Yes,' said David. ' The first thing to do if we 
 want to understand that God is our Father, is to 
 act like his children. And you know as well as I 
 do, thats heart work, Eunice Keith.' 
 
 Eunice looked very sober at this, pondering the 
 matter as she walked along. 
 
 ' See here,' said David, taking out his little Bible, 
 ' sit down a minute on the stile and I'll shew you 
 something. Look what the Lord said by his prophet 
 long ago.' 
 
 " I have nourished and brought up children, and 
 they have rebelled against me." 
 
 ' I know, mother made me read that,' said 
 Eunice. 
 
 ' Well, do you suppose people acting so feel as if 
 God was their Father ? They must try to forget 
 it just as hard as they can.'
 
 62 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Eunice sadly, ' I see that. But Davy, 
 do you mean that I am ever like such people ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, that is for you to judge,' answered her 
 friend. 'But I'll shew you another text, small 
 child, that has often given me information, — it's 
 over here in Ephesians.' 
 
 ' " Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear chil- 
 dren." — Ephes. 5. 1. 
 
 ' It's pretty easy to tell, I think, if we look sharp,' 
 David concluded. 
 
 'You mean — ' said Eunice slowly, 'that if I felt 
 just like the Lord's child, and didn't forget it, I 
 wouldn't ever displease him?' 
 
 ' Precisely." said David. 
 
 'But then.' said Eunice, 'I do always feel so 
 about mother, but I don't always like to do what 
 she tells me, Daw ' 
 
 'No, I suppose not,' David answered. 'But 
 those are not the times when your whole heart's 
 fall of joy because you are her child, Eunice Keith.' 
 
 ' I see,' said Eunice again. ' But it's very di 
 greeable, Davy.' 
 
 'Disagreeable ! ' — echoed David. 
 
 'Yes,' said Eunice. ' Because that makes it all 
 rne and nol Him, Davy: all just mv fault' 
 
 ' Ah,' said David, ' there is but one cure for that:
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 63 
 
 it must be all Him, and not me, — all just his grace. 
 Look here, small child, see what the Bible says : 
 
 4 " Ye have received the Spirit of adoption, 
 whereby we cry, Abba, Father." — Ko. 8. 15. 
 
 ' " God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into 
 your hearts, crying, Abba, Father. Wherefore 
 thou art no more a servant, but a son." — Gal. 4. 6, 7. 
 
 ' How do you expect to feel like the Lord's child, 
 without his help ?' 
 
 'Adoption?' Eunice repeated. 
 
 ' Yes,' said David. ' The sort of feeling a poor 
 chap like me would have, if some great man took 
 him for his son. Not for a day or two, you know, 
 but for always: giving me everything a real father 
 would, and making me everything his real child 
 should be, and loving me to my heart's content.' 
 
 ' Well Davy,' said Eunice, (it was not too easy 
 for her to understand. Eunice did not feel as if 
 she would like to be adopted by anybody) ' what 
 did you really mean about lessons?' 
 
 4 Only that if you set out to be the Lord's child 
 in good earnest, you'll have 'em,' said David. ' He 
 may set you one any day. But be sure you learn 
 it when he does.' 
 
 ' Lessons — lessons — ' Eunice repeated. ' The 
 Lord set me lessons ? It sounds so funny.'
 
 64 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' It's not always funny to learn 'em,' said David. 
 ' But it's good and sweet and wholesome. " Who 
 teacheth like him ? " And you must not shirk them, 
 Eunice Keith.' 
 
 ' Will they be very hard ? ' asked Eunice. 
 
 ' Not the first ones, most likely,' said David. 
 ' But if you miss them a time or two, it'll be a 
 big thing to learn the next. Like having to rem I 
 off a chapter before you know your letters. No — 
 never harder than you can learn,' the boy added, 
 half to himself, and with a wistful, patient, loving 
 look upward. 
 
 ' I wonder if I've missed any yet ? ' said Eunice 
 thoughtfully. ' I s'pose mother learns hers, every 
 one. That's the reason she knows so much.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said David, — ' I believe you ! People 
 grow wise who learn all the Lord will teach them. 
 But I think you had one lesson yesterday, small 
 child, — only you missed it. At least I should have 
 thought 1 had.' 
 
 'A lesson?' Maid Eunice: 'yesterday?' 
 
 ' / should have thought so,' David repeated. 
 'You ask Mrs. Keith, and see what she says. 
 Good-night.'
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 All the next week David was away from the vil- 
 lage, busy with a job of ploughing on a farm two 
 miles off; and so Eunice never saw him once, as 
 she trotted back and forth with her mother's bun- 
 dles of work. The shoemaker's garden told indeed, 
 by its nice order, that David had been there, but 
 otherwise Eunice thought it looked very empty. 
 Moreover the weather turned cool, and the straw- 
 berries quite declined to ripen ; and the May roses 
 hung on, and the June roses came slowly. The 
 carriage load of fairies had not been seen again in 
 the village, (by Eunice at least) and she might 
 have forgotten all about them, if they had not as 
 she said — ' got mixed up with so many things.' 
 Quarter dollars were truly almost as scarce as 
 strawberries, in these days; but Eunice could not 
 hear either of them even mentioned, without an 
 uneasy flush rising in her cheeks. 
 
 ' Not give mother one ! ' she spoke out to herself 
 5 (65)
 
 «36 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 one evening as she washed np the plates. ' I guess 
 that's vc.-.j likely, indeed.' 
 
 1 What are you talking of, Eunice?' The little 
 girl started, flushing higher yet. 
 
 • I didn't know I spoke out,' she said. ' — I was 
 just thinking, mother.' 
 
 'About what?' 
 
 ' Strawberries — and things,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Are the berries ripe ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, ma'am,' said Eunice. ' It's been 
 real hot today.' 
 
 4 Suppose you look in the pine meadow tomor- 
 row. They are apt to be early there.' 
 
 'You'd like some, wouldn't you, mother? ' cried 
 Eunice. ' yes, indeed I'll look. And even a 
 saucerful would refresh vou, ' she added — for 
 Eunice often picked up a long word. Something 
 gathered over Mrs. Keith's sight behind which the 
 shoes and the binding faded away. 
 
 ' Love,' she said presently, ' what was it those 
 ladies said about the strawberries?' 
 
 ♦The pink and green ladies? They wanted 
 'em, — that was all,' said Eunice with a little flirt 
 of her shoulder. ' They wanted 'em every <>n<' 
 selfish things ! ' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! What will they pay for them ?'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 67 
 
 ' 0, they said — a dollar — a quart,' said Eunice, 
 shaking out her tea towel, and the words be- 
 tween the shakes. ' Said they wanted 'em for 
 then- health, — or at least one of 'em did. The 
 fattest.' 
 
 Mrs. Keith could not help smiling. 
 
 ' A dollar a quart would be a fancy price,' she 
 said : ' I should not think it right to take that. 
 But I suppose fifty cents a quart would not be un- 
 reasonable — as it is early.' 
 
 'But would you sell our strawberries!' said 
 Eunice, facing round upon her mother with re- 
 proachful eyes. 'When they do you so much 
 good, mother? And they're the only nice thing 
 we ever have ! — or the nicest, — ' said Eunice cor- 
 recting herself. Mrs. Keith sat silent, fighting the 
 pain at her heart. Should she tell Eunice how 
 slack the shoe- binding trade was just now ? with so 
 many people going barefoot ? Stitch, stitch, the 
 needle went in and out. — Eunice stood softly flirt- 
 ing her towel, watching her mother with eyes that 
 saw vaguely something which kept her too, silent. 
 Then a little brown bird hopped down on the win- 
 dow sill and gave a message. 
 
 " Twit-twit-te-dee ! " 
 
 "Fear not: ye are of more value than many
 
 68 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 sparrows.' Mrs. Keith looked up with a tender 
 smile upon her lips. 
 
 'Dear,' she said, 'the best thing we can ever 
 have is the Lord's good pleasure. ' Now I want an 
 extra dollar very much, Eunice, — and it seems to be 
 his pleasure that we should get it so. At least I 
 see no other way.' 
 
 Eunice looked at her mother, turned away and 
 slowly hung up her towel, looked again, — thou 
 darted out of the room to her particular retiring 
 place in summer weather, a certain old bench un- 
 der an old rugged apple tree behind the house. 
 She threw herself full length upon the bench. 
 
 4 O dear ! dear ! ' she sobbed. ' Here's moth- 
 er wants a dollar, and I can't get it for her ! ' 
 
 ' Yes you can ' — said her conscience. 
 
 ' But I don't want to — that way,' said Eunice. 
 ' I like strawberries.' 
 
 ' Better than your mother?' 
 
 ' I want her to have 'em too,' said Eunice, 'and 
 they're good for her, besides. And she never has 
 anything good except in strawberry time, nor I 
 neither. O dear, dear, dear ! ' 
 
 A little girl in such distress on a beautiful sum- 
 mer day, was a greal puzzle t<> the two robins that 
 were building in the old apple tree over her head.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 69 
 
 Mr. Robin put his thumbs in his red vest pockets, 
 and hopped to and fro, remarking that there must 
 certainly be a black snake somewhere about : but 
 Mrs. Robin after a glance or so, shook her little 
 wise head and went on with her building. Perhaps 
 she knew more of feminine nature than he did, — 
 but still, to make such a fuss over nothing ! If 
 that strange creature down on the bench, now, had 
 to mix mortar till it was just soft enough to spread 
 with her bill and just stiff enough to stick, — then 
 indeed ! And still Eunice lay on the bench, some- 
 times silent, sometimes with a sudden sob, and now 
 and then giving herself an uneasy fling. 
 
 The apple tree dropped a leaf or two that the 
 wind had loosened, right down upon her head ; the 
 grasshoppers sang round her; the sun shone over 
 her from head to foot, peeping through the boughs 
 of the apple tree ; but neither one could win a 
 glance or a thought. The dollar her mother could 
 not get, seemed somehow to have established itself 
 on Eunice's heart, feeling heavy as lead; the straw- 
 berries not yet picked got in her throat and choked 
 her : and in her mind two sets of words had a hot 
 contest. The mocking speech of the young lady: 
 
 'A dollar a quart, child '.—that'll content her, I 
 fancy.' And her mother's gentle:
 
 70 CROSS CORiVERS. 
 
 ' I want another dollar very much.' 
 
 ' Eunice Keith, don't forget whose child you are,' 
 Davy had said. 
 
 Poor Eunice ! in her present rebellion against all 
 parental demands, whether human or divine, she 
 did not feel like anybody's child; but rather like 
 some stray orphan, alone in the world and gen- 
 erally ill-used. 
 
 ' Yes, I'd like to be one of the other dishes,' she 
 said; 'and I don't see why it's always somebody 
 else, and not mother and me, that gets trimmed up. 
 I don't mean so much with ribbands and things ' — 
 and here Eunice paused, remembering the charm- 
 ing flutter of the green and pink fairies. ' I don't 
 so much mean that,' she began again with a little 
 sigh, — ' though they're real nice too; but I'd like to 
 have all the strawberries I want, and not to take 
 anybody's money; and that mother needn't work 
 so hard.' 
 
 This last thought brought a sudden feeling of at 
 least one part of her child life. Eunice sat up on 
 the old bench, and cleared her hair out of her eyes, 
 and looked towards the house. Her mother's win- 
 dow was on the other side; but Eunice needed no 
 sight to tell her how swiftly the lingers moved, how 
 steadily the fair pale face bent over the dingy work.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 71 
 
 ' She has to take money for it, too,' thought the 
 little girl ; ' and it's a good deal worse than picking 
 strawberries. the picking is just delightful ! But 
 she never goes. She hasn't time. 
 
 ' And she don't make as much fuss in — ever ! ' 
 said Eunice to herself, 'as I've made this morn- 
 ing, just because I can't pick 'em and eat 'em 
 too.' 
 
 One or two heavy sighs followed; and then Eu- 
 nice got up and walked into the house. 
 
 ' Mother I'm going,' she said. 'I guess I'll set 
 right off,' — and she bustled about, smoothing her 
 tumbled hair, washing her hands, and putting on 
 her thick out-door shoes. ' It would be dreadfully 
 mean of me to be your child, and not get you a 
 dollar when I could.' 
 
 Mrs. Keith put her arm round her little daugh- 
 ter and drew her down for a farewell kiss. 
 
 ' And how about being the Lord's child, Eunice ? ' 
 she said. 
 
 ' — that ? I don't know,' said Eunice. ' I 
 haven't thought much about that. I s'pose I must 
 be, you know ; but there's nothing I can do for him, 
 mother.' 
 
 ' Well, do not forget whose child you are,' said 
 Mrs. Keith with another kiss; 'and then when
 
 72 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 there is, you will find it out. How will vou meas- 
 ure your berries, Eunice ? ' 
 
 ' to be sure — I forgot they must be measure. 1. 
 I guess I'd better bring 'em home and let you do 
 it.' 
 
 ' But I am very busy, love. And besides, berries 
 should be handled just as little as possible.' 
 
 'I can pick 'em nicely,' said Eunice, 'ever since 
 you told me how. Why, have I got to take 'em 
 right there, mother?' 
 
 ' That is the way, while they are quite fresh. 
 And the Cross Corners cottage is not far away. 
 
 'No — ' said Eunice hesitating. 'Then suppose I 
 just let the people measure 'em?' 
 
 'That will do.' said Mrs. Keith. 'But see the 
 ladies themselves: do not give your basket to any- 
 one else.' 
 
 ' Maybe they'll be out ? ' said Eunice. 
 
 1 Then bring the berries home.' 
 
 With eager delight now, Eunice gave her mother 
 a parting hug, tied on her white sunbonnet, and 
 set out. A new hope had sprung up in her heart 
 Of course the ladies would be out! — driving away 
 off about the country. Now if she could <>nly gel 
 her berries picked and at the cottage before the 
 gay carriageful came back !
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 73 
 
 Eunice trudged along the wandering village 
 road with, a will, swinging her neat basket, sing- 
 ing gayly to herself, or casting loving eyes at the 
 flowers by the wayside. Today she must not stop 
 to pick them, but oh, how pretty they were ! Gay 
 pimpernel and blue forgetmenots in the fresh 
 grass near the springs; and in other places more 
 decidedly marshy, white arrowhead, with com- 
 panions white, purple, and yellow, that Eunice did 
 not know by name. Meek-eyed sheep wandered 
 on the hillside, a soft ba-a now and then sounding 
 through the still air; and hens cackled in distant 
 farmyards, and cows stood knee-deep in the sweet 
 clover. Eunice sighed to herself for very pleasure 
 now. how lovely it was ! — and ' if mother could 
 only come too ! ' she thought. 
 
 ' If I could get her a great many dollars, maybe 
 she could,' Eunice went on to herself. 'There are 
 raspberries next, and blackberries, and wild plums, 
 and chestnuts, and wild grapes. That would be 
 just splendid ! — so many dollars that she needn't 
 work any more. And when the ladies were out, 
 wed eat 'em, — and when they were home, they 
 could. They're going to be out today,' said Eu- 
 nice, as she reached the strawberry meadow and 
 crept through the bars. Then she fell to work.
 
 7 4 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 It was very early in the season ; the strawberry 
 vines were all about indeed, but as yet loaded only 
 with green berries. Here and there however a red 
 cheek shewed itself, and Eunice was a good picker, 
 and had quick eyes. One by one the fragrant 
 things fell lightly into her basket, inch by inch the 
 sweet store crept upward; until finally there was 
 not an inch of room left, nor even space for "just 
 this one beauty." 
 
 ' Because,' reasoned Eunice wisely, * if they roll 
 off in the dust, we shouldn't have 'em today nor to- 
 morrow neither.' 
 
 She took off her bonnet and fanned herself for a 
 few minutes; tied it on again, carefully pulling out 
 the white bows; once more crept under the bars; 
 then took up her basket, and with a light heart set 
 forth towards the Cross Corners cottage.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The little village of Stony Brook was much like all 
 other such small places. At the church end (only 
 further on towards the woods) Jived Eunice's moth- 
 er; and then when you had passed the church, 
 coming this way, the minister's house came first, 
 and then the schoolhouse. Then a little bit of 
 road, then the blacksmith's shop, and the tinman's, 
 and the village store. Small village houses stood 
 about, here, there, and everywhere, and fronting 
 in all directions. One was backed up this way 
 and another that, as the builder's fancy had set 
 them. Flowers were scattered about too, in the 
 same careless fashion. Over one door climbed a 
 rose, just now all bloom ; over another clambered a 
 vine of ' matrimony,' or a green mass of morning 
 glories, or a gourd; but marigolds, cockscombs, 
 balm and feverfew were everywhere. Thriving 
 somehow, with not too much care; or at least ' get- 
 ting along — ' as the villagers would have said of 
 
 C75)
 
 76 CAOSS CORNERS. 
 
 themselves. Stony brook crossed the village 
 twice, running noisily from side to side; and when 
 you had passed the second bridge, you were at the 
 end of the village street. Now it changed to the 
 open road, with sweet wild hedges on either side. 
 O how pretty they were! Ko feverfew and mar- 
 igolds here; but wild spirea, and elecampane, and 
 sweet briar, and ferns; all bound tightly together 
 with clematis and bind-weed. The brook ran 
 alongside for a little way, with its border of but- 
 tercups and rushes; and there were woods on either 
 hand; but just as you began to wish the road could 
 go on so for ever, the brook darted away at right 
 angles, the woods fell back, the one road suddenly 
 changed into four ; and there stood the Cross 
 Corners cottage. 
 
 Now this cottage was considered quite an am- 
 bitious sort of place, and belonged to the widow of 
 a former postmaster of Stony Brook, who generally 
 rilled it with city boarders all summer and through 
 the early fall. So the white window curtains were 
 the finest in the village, and the doormat was ex- 
 tra large; and there was a tiny carriage room parti- 
 tioned off from the woodhouse. And Airs. Lpokit 
 had even a real live peacock ! 
 
 .Just now the house looked asleep. The window
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 77 
 
 curtains waved lazily in and out, the peacock stood 
 on one foot in the sun ; and Towzer the house-dog 
 covered the big mat with his shaggy person. Eu- 
 nice listened: no, she heard no voices, and better 
 still, no stamping and pawing in the stable. More- 
 over she could see as she came near that the car- 
 riage room door stood open, and that the carriage 
 was away. Eunice gave a little skip all to herself 
 in the dusty road. 
 
 ' I said they'd be out ! ' she cried under her 
 breath ; ' and so they are. And it's no use for me 
 to wake up Mrs. Lockit, because mother said I 
 must give the berries to the ladies themselves.' 
 
 If you ever saw a little girl turn quick and hur- 
 ry away, you would have seen one then. She was 
 so afraid the pink and green fairies might drop 
 down suddenly from somewhere ! Hurry, hurry 
 along the road, with every few steps a skip of pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 ' I'm so glad I came ! ' she thought. ' Of course 
 it don't do to forget whose child I am ! Now moth- 
 er '11 have such a supper ! ' 
 
 So she danced along, carefully guarding the bas- 
 ket from too sudden a jump, until she was almost 
 at the bridge at the entrance of the village; and 
 then suddenly in front of her, as it seemed on the
 
 78 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 very bridge itself, up rose a noisy clatter. Eunice 
 started aud stopped short, looking ahead, but at first 
 could see nothing but just such a cloud of dust as 
 appeared to the sister of Bluebeard's wife. Then 
 as the child still stood gazing, the cloud parted 
 right and left, and from the midst of it rolled out 
 and rolled up the carriageful of fairies. But they 
 were all in white this time. 
 
 For a minute Eunice was so choked and blinded 
 with the dust that she could not give a second look; 
 and apparently the brown cloud had partially hid- 
 den her; but now when the wheels had whirled a 
 few times round and away from her, all at once the 
 horses stopped, and she heard the very same call 
 from the coachman that she remembered so well. 
 
 ' Here, child ! — come here. Run ! ' 
 Very slowly and unwillingly Eunice turned 
 and went towards the carriage, which now was 
 standing still; while the remnant of the cloud of 
 dust sailed softly away before the breeze. Every- 
 body was waiting for her, and watching her too. 
 The coachman sat half round upon his box, the 
 footman had jumped down, and from cither side of 
 the carriage gay heads leaned out. Only the 
 black horses stood pawing and stamping in dis- 
 pleasure at having to stand still.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 7<j 
 
 ' Why yes — it is the same child,' cried a voice. 
 ' I remember that very patch in her frock, because 
 the browns aint exactly the same shade, you know.' 
 
 ' Hurry up, young one ! ' called the coachman. 
 
 ' I do believe she's got my strawberries ! ' cried 
 another voice. ' Little girl, little girl ! — what's in 
 your basket ? ' 
 
 ' Strawberries, ma'am.' said Eunice, who was now 
 near enough to speak. But how her heart sank 
 with the word. 
 
 ' O you splendid child ! ' cried the youug lady 
 clapping her hands. ' Make haste ! What were you 
 going the other way for ? ' 
 
 ' Please, you were all out,' said Eunice, ' and so 
 I was taking them home to mother.' 
 
 ' Luckily we came back this way;' said the lady. 
 ' Well hand 'em up here, child.' 
 
 But Eunice held fast to her basket. 
 
 ' If you please,' she said, ' you said mother should 
 have a dollar a quart for them. And so I told 
 her, — but she said it was too much.' 
 
 ' Well, rather ! ' said the young lady drily. 
 
 'And,' said Eunice, going steadily on, 'mother 
 said that just while it was so early, fifty cents a 
 quart would be right.' 
 
 'And you won't let me have 'em for less ?'
 
 80 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 4 No ma'am.' 
 
 ' Now did you ever ? ' said the young lady. 
 
 'How manv have you got there, child?' said 
 another, ' half a pint ? ' 
 
 ' My basket holds a pint and a half of huckle- 
 berries,' said Eunice, ' and it's quite full. But then 
 strawberries are bigger.' 
 
 ' Yes, strawberries are a good deal bigger than 
 most huckleberries,' said the young lady, winking 
 at her companions. ' Then you think there's about 
 a pint in it now ? ' 
 
 ' Jane, Jane ! ' said the elderly lady, who seldom 
 spoke. 
 
 ' Mother said, ma'am,' answered Eunice, ' that if 
 you measured them yourself, you would be better 
 satisfied than if she did it.' 
 
 ' So I should,' said the lady: ' much better. Your 
 mother is a very sensible woman. Hand 'em up, 
 child, — I can't measure them till 1 have them, you 
 know.' 
 
 ' Please, have you got a pint measure up there ?' 
 said Eunice. 
 
 'Well hardly a pint,' — said the young lady with 
 a laugh, 'but I've got a measure. I laud 'em up, 
 child!' 
 
 Again very unwillingly, and a little bewildered,
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 81 
 
 Eunice held out her basket; and the groom seized 
 it, and passed it up to the carriage. Jane gave a 
 cry of delighted surprise as she pulled away the 
 green thatch of strawberry leaves. Off came her 
 white kid glove, and out came a hand almost as 
 white, all flashing with rings. With another little 
 cry she popped one berry into her mouth, and then 
 a second, and then a third; after which they went 
 in so fast that Eunice lost count. 
 
 'Absolutely sweet!' cried the young lady, eat- 
 ing away. 'Yes, I'll measure 'em, little girl, and 
 pay you next time. Drive on.' 
 
 'But ma'am,' said Eunice, pressing so close to 
 the carriage wheel that the coachman dared not 
 obey the order, ' 1 don't think there'll be any when 
 you get home. Won't you, please measure them 
 now? ' The young lady laughed till she fairly had 
 to stop eating. 
 
 ' You are the richest child ! ' she said. ' I haven't 
 the least doubt you'll be the death of me some day. 
 Aint I measuring them just as fast as I can ? 
 And they just fit my mouth exactly, — look ! ' and 
 pop went another berry. 
 
 'Jane, I am very much astonished at you,' said 
 the older lady. ' Little girl, I saw how the basket 
 was heaped up, and you shall be paid for every
 
 82 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 one. Come tomorrow and bring some more, and 
 you shall have the money for both.' 
 
 1 There won't be any, tomorrow, ma'am,' said Eu- 
 nice. ' They're only just beginning to get ripe, and 
 these were the very first.' 
 
 ' No strawberries tomorrow ! ' cried Jane, pausing 
 with an uplifted one in her fingers. 'O nonsense, 
 child, — there must be. Do you hear?' 
 
 ' There won't be any,' Eunice repeated. ' The 
 sun's most down, and there'll be nothing to make 
 'em sweet.' 
 
 ' But the moon's most up ' — said the young lady, 
 nodding her head gravely at Eunice. The child 
 looked perplexed, and all the three young ladies 
 burst into fits of laughter. 
 
 1 Little girl,' said the older lady, leaning out of 
 the carriage and speaking kindly, 'suppose you 
 bring us something else tomorrow ? Radishes, 
 you know, or water cresses ? Could you do that ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, ma'am,' said Eunice, her heart 
 swelling. ' I can't get radishes till Davy comes 
 home — there are water cresses enough.' 
 
 'Then why don't you know, child?' said one of 
 the others. Eunice dashed off the gathering tears 
 and looked up half defiantly. 
 
 'Because I don't know what mother will saw'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 83 
 
 she answered. ' I wouldn't have brought the straw- 
 berries — only — on]y — she thought if God sent us„ 
 money that way, we ought to take it. / didn't 
 want to, — but then I'm not good as she is. She 'd 
 rather do what God likes, than anything else in all 
 the world.' 
 
 The child's tone softened as she thought of 
 the beloved pale, patient face at home, ana a 
 warm glow came up in her cheeks. ' So if you 
 please, ma'am, perhaps I'll bring the cresses — ' she 
 ended, putting her hands together with a little 
 sigh. Silence fell upon the gay carriageful: they 
 sat looking at Eunice, only the coachman turned 
 back upon his box and gave her a little nod of ap- 
 probation. 
 
 ' What an extraordinary part of the country ! 
 said one of the young ladies, breaking silence. 
 
 4 I wonder if frogs don't grow here ? ' cried 
 another. ' Primitive enough. Little girl, have you 
 got any frogs ? ' 
 
 ' Frogs ? ' Eunice repeated, bewildered. The 
 coachman turned away his head now, to laugh se- 
 cretly. 
 
 ' Yes, frogs,' repeated the lady. ' Just bring us 
 a dozen or so with the cresses. What's the child 
 staring at. Don't you know frogs' hind legs, child ? '
 
 84 CROSS CORA'ERS. 
 
 - Yes ma'am,' said Eunice, ' of course they've got 
 hind legs. And fore legs too.' 
 
 4 their fore legs don't count, — you can keep 
 them yourself,' said the lady. ' Only bring plenty 
 of hind legs. Now drive on.' 
 
 And away rolled the carriage ; with Jane nod- 
 ding mockingly back to Eunice, as an extra sized 
 strawberry went into her mouth.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It would be hard to tell the hidden uproar of 
 heart in which Eunice began her walk home. She 
 stood gazing after the carriage until it had whirled 
 round a bend of the road, out of sight ; then turned 
 and set off for home as if she was walking for a 
 wager. Pat, pat, went the little feet; the dust 
 flew; and Eunice forgot to step out of it, to the 
 right hand or the left. She never looked up or 
 paused for breath till she was once more in the vil- 
 lage; and nothing stayed her then for a while. 
 But suddenly the sound of a clear, cheery whistle 
 caught her ear; and there to be sure was David, 
 hard at work in the shoemaker's garden. 
 
 ' O Davy, when did you get home ? ' cried Eunice, 
 springing up to the fence. ' please stop digging, 
 and come out and talk to me ! ' 
 
 1 How do you do, small child ? ' said David with 
 a smile and a nod. ' In a peck of troubles, as usu- 
 al ? But 1 can't stop, Eunice, not one minute, till 
 
 the bell rings.' 
 
 (85)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Just a minute ! ' pleaded Eunice. 
 
 1 You don't commonly let me off in a minute,' said 
 David with a laugh. ' But if you would, I couldn't. 
 ' It's my day's work, you see, and every minute is 
 due.' 
 
 'Does Mr. Vamp give you a great deal, Davy?' 
 said Eunice, tor the time diverted trom her own 
 troubles. 
 
 ' Well, no — I should say decidedly not,' answer- 
 ed David. ' But then I guess he couldn't afford 
 it. And I'm pretty much like both sets of the 
 folks that gathered manna: I don't often have any- 
 thing over, — and I generally have no lack.' 
 And David plied his spade quicker than ever, 
 breaking forth in a joyous song. 
 
 " Not half so high his power hath spread 
 The starry heavens above our head : 
 As his rich love exceeds our praise, 
 Exceeds the highest hopes we raise." 
 
 Eunice listened — then she gave a little sob. 
 
 ' But Davy, /don't feel so,' she said. 
 
 4 Learn it as quick as you can, then,' said David. 
 
 ' I can think of a great deal more than I get,' 
 Eunice went on. Almost without pausing, David 
 took a little wooden cone from his pocket aud 
 tossed it to her.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 37 
 
 'Just till I get through, small child,' he said, 
 ' amuse yourself with that. Make it stand on the 
 fence, point down, Eunice Keith.' 
 
 With the easy, happy transition of a child, 
 Eunice caught the little toy, and turned all her 
 thoughts into this new channel She set up the 
 little cone upon the fence, and down it fell; rolling 
 away so that Eunice had to run after it : she set it 
 up again, and down it came as before. 
 
 ; Davy,' called Eunice, ' it won't stand on the 
 point.' 
 
 ' Won't it — ? ' said David. ' Well you ought to 
 manage it if anybody can.' 
 
 ' I can't manage it at all ' — said Eunice, after 
 another failure and another run. 
 
 ' Try again.' 
 
 So Eunice tried again — and again ; and every 
 time the little cone tumbled down so fast, that it 
 was on the grass before she could catch it. 
 
 ' It's no use trying, Davy,' she said : ' it just 
 worit. May I set it t'other end down ? ' 
 
 ' You don't like that way,' said David, digging 
 on. 
 
 ' Why yes I do ! ' cried Eunice, setting the little 
 cone now with its broad end down. ' And it stands 
 beautifully. Look, Davy.'
 
 88 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 David glanced over and nodded assent. 
 
 4 I like it so,' he said. ' In fact I don't often 
 6et it anv other wav.' 
 
 • Then why did you bid me ? ' said Eunice. ' O 
 Davy, do make haste ! I want to talk to you evi i 
 so much.' 
 
 1 Talk away,' said David with a smile. ' But as 
 to ' making haste ' — I can't hurry the sun, small 
 child. And there never was but one man allowed 
 to stop it. So be easy.' 
 
 4 Well I think the sun's very slow sometimes,' 
 said little Eunice, ' and I don't see why Solomon 
 said it makes haste.' 
 
 4 " The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, 
 and hasteth to his place whence he arose," — repeated 
 David, with a glance towards ' the greater light ' 
 now sinking away in the west. ' That's because 
 you are in a hurry yourself, — and so of course you 
 want things faster than the regulation time. " As 
 the servant earnestly desireth the shadow " 
 David repeated, half aloud; then making his spade 
 fly faster than ever. 'What's the matter now, 
 Eunice Keith?' 
 
 4 O I'm always in a puzzle, Davy,' said Eunice. 
 
 4 Another quarter dollar?' suggested David. 
 
 4 It's a whole one, this time,' said Eunice.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 89 
 
 ' Well that would not puzzle me long,' said David 
 with a laugh. 
 
 4 It's those ladies at the Cross Corners,' explained 
 Eunice. ' They'd give a dollar a quart for every 
 strawberry I can find, — only mother says that it's 
 too much, and fifty cents might be right just at first. 
 But that would be a dollar for two quarts, Davy.' 
 
 'Where's the puzzle, then?' said David. 'To 
 find the berries ? They'll be thick as bees, before 
 you're a week older.' 
 
 4 Yes, but Davy — I don't want to give 'em one ! ' 
 said Eunice, her eyes filling ; ' I want mother to 
 eat 'em. And I don't like to do it, besides. And I 
 thought I'd missed 'em today, and oh I was so 
 happy! And then they just met me, and carried 
 'em all off, and eat 'em all up on the way home ! ' 
 
 4 Well you've got the money safe, this time ? ' 
 said David. 
 
 4 Not yet,' said Eunice, 4 but that don't matter ; 
 'cause they said I should have it tomorrow when 1 
 brought more. But I do so hate to go there ! — and 
 I do so — so — not like those people. And mother's 
 got nothing for tea but just dry bread, — and I daresay 
 they've got cake, and butter, and sweetmeats and 
 everything ! ' And Eunice put down her head 
 against the palings and sobbed.
 
 <)0 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 For a little David made no reply, finishing his 
 garden bed. Then just as the sun dipped down 
 behind the trees a great bell clanged out over the 
 village, and the busy spading ceased. 
 
 ' Now I'm ready for you,' said David cheerily, 
 straightening himself up. ' Why don't cry so, 
 small child ! You can't lay this world's dust in 
 that fashion. They'll make it all right. I guess: if 
 they don't, 7'11 pay 'em a visit.' Eunice smiled up 
 at him through her tears. 
 
 'Thank you, Davy,' she said, 'you're real good. 
 I wasn't crying about that, exactly, — though it 
 would have been a little fun to take even the money 
 home. But it's everything, Davy ! ' said the little 
 girl with an uueasy twist of her shoulders. ' It's 
 all — just — hateful ! — as I said.' 
 
 ' Don't say it again,' said David gravely: 'you 
 are forgetting whose child you are. Nothing is 
 hateful that God sends, Eunice Keith.' 
 
 ' What does he send hateful things for then ? ' said 
 Eunice illogically. David could not help a smile. 
 
 'I don't seethe hatefulness, 1 he said: 'where 
 does it stick? To the strawberries or the money ? 
 Or your beautiful walk on a summer day? Oryour 
 helping your mother? or your doing just what the 
 dear Lord gives you to do ?'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 91 
 
 Eunice replied first with another sob. 
 
 'While you're talking, Davy, it seems as if it -was 
 all me,' she said. 'Do you think the Lord did 
 really give me that to do ? ' 
 
 ' I'm just as sure of it as if I heard him speak.' 
 
 ' Mother said,' Eunice went on thoughtfully, ' that 
 if I didn't forget I was God's child, then when 
 there was anything to do for him I should find it 
 out.' 
 
 ' Ay,' said David : ' Mrs. Keith knows. And 
 what an honour it is, when God permits such a 
 little girl as you, to help him take care of her 
 mother.' 
 
 Eunice stopped short and clasped her hands. 
 
 ' Davy, is that it ? ' she cried. 
 
 'That is just it, small child.' 
 
 ' I'll never say another word,' said Eunice walk- 
 ing on very fast. ' Not if the people are ever so 
 horrid. But oh Davy,' and she stopped again and 
 looked wistfully up in his face, — ' it would have 
 helped take care of her, to make her eat the straw- 
 berries herself ! ' 
 
 David's own eyes grew dim. 
 
 ' See here,' he said, pulling out his book and 
 walking slow : ' I can't get safe out of such locked- 
 up corners with anything but a Bible key. So I
 
 y2 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 keep a bunch of 'em always in my pocket. 
 First I have to use one, and then I have to 
 use another. Now this one opens your door, 
 Eunice Keith. 
 
 '"Seek ye not what ye shall eat, nor what ye 
 shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind: for all 
 these things do the nations of the world seek 
 after," — -(the people who forget, you know) " and 
 your Father knoweth that ye have need of such 
 things." 
 
 ' There it is,' said David cheerily. ' The dear Lord 
 knows how you would like to pick strawberries for 
 your mother, and how good they would be for 
 her, — and then he bids you pick 'em for somebody 
 else.' 
 
 ' But why ? ' queried Eunice. 
 
 1 Ah, ' why ' is a very big word — for all it looks 
 so little. I can't tell you, small child, but one day 
 the Lord will tell you himself. Only keep your 
 ears open and your heart ready. Maybe the money 
 will do her most good, just now.' 
 
 'I wonder!' — said Eunice. 'But Davy — ' and 
 the child's voice went down to a whisper, — ' I don't 
 mind telling yon, — but we don't have much variety 
 to eat. And sometimes I think mother gets tired 
 < I' just bread, bread.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 93 
 
 David's eyes moistened again, though he smiled 
 too. 
 
 'I don't believe she does,' he said: ' she knows 
 the Lord sent it — and his touch sweetens all. 
 "That thou givest them they gather,'" he added, 
 with the up-look again. 
 
 4 Well she don't eat much — so I wanted some ber- 
 ries for her dreadfully,' Eunice ended with a long 
 sigh. 
 
 ' How would some radishes do ? — nice long 
 ones, with green tops ? ' 
 
 ' splendidly' cried Eunice : ' she does love rad- 
 ishes ! But they don't grow wild, Davy.' 
 
 ' I know where they do grow,' answered David, 
 ' so then we're all right.' 
 
 He led his little companion along, talking cheer- 
 fully of other things, until they were almost through 
 the village. Then paused before a neat little white 
 house with a red lily in full bloom in the window, 
 and ran in, bidding Eunice wait for him outside. 
 And in three minutes David was back again, with a 
 little handful of the freshest, largest, reddest rad- 
 ishes that anybody ever saw. 
 
 ' Take 'em and run, small child,' he said. ' I 
 suppose you've got salt at home.' And away he 
 darted off in another direction, while Eunice ran
 
 94 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 home. But how happy she felt ! and how good the 
 radishes were ! and the little girl never imagined 
 that some of David's own hard-earned cents had 
 drawn them from the garden ground of the stingi- 
 est man in all the village. But Mrs. Keith guessed, 
 and the Lord knew.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It would be hard to tell how delicious the radish- 
 es tasted that night : how they freshened and 
 spiced up the dry bread ; and made Eunice partly 
 forget that she had not her usual glass of blue 
 milk. She had proposed to go for it, late as it was, 
 but Mrs. Keith said no, — they could do with water, 
 as had sometimes happened before. Truth was, 
 cents were very scarce in the little house: and Mrs. 
 Keith dared not spend them for anything but in- 
 dispensables. Now that the barefoot season of the 
 year had come, shoe-binding had dwindled to a 
 very slender trade. 
 
 ' It's good salt's cheap,' said Eunice, dipping her 
 crimson radish into the little white heap on her 
 plate. ' Mother, do you suppose those ladies eat 
 theirs with sugar ? ' 
 
 ' Their radishes ? no, I should think not' 
 
 1 They're such funny upside-down people,' said 
 
 Eunice: ' don't ever say what they mean, and don't 
 
 (95)
 
 <JG CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 mean what they say. Why they told me to bring 
 'em two dozen frogs ! I guess they'd squeal pretty 
 well, if I did.' 
 
 ' I do not wish you to take them frogs,' said Mrs. 
 Keith. ' You can tell them so, if they ask again.' 
 
 ' O I daresay they'll iorgei it uy next time,' said 
 Eunice. ' They never say the same thing twice. 
 One cries out this and the other cries out that, and 
 then they all wink and laugh and clap their hands,' 
 — and Eunice went on with her radish. 
 
 ' Eunice, love,' said Mrs. Keith presently, ' try to 
 notice as little as possible what those ladies say or 
 do. Speak modestly, answer politely, and come 
 away.' 
 
 ' I don't want to stay there a minute,' said Eu- 
 nice. 'Do the radishes taste good, mother? 'she 
 asked earnestly. 
 
 * Very good, love.' 
 
 ' I'm so glad ! ' said Eunice. ' Davy's just the 
 dearest fellow that ever was. Do you know, moth- 
 er, he keeps a whole bunch of keys in his pocket, 
 to let himself quick out of hard places ? ' 
 
 ' Bible keys, I suppose,' said Mrs. Keith with a 
 smile. ' So do I, Eunice.' 
 
 4 O do you ?' cried Eunice. ' You never told me 
 before.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 97 
 
 ' My little daughter has not been in many hard 
 places yet,' said Mrs. Keith tenderly ; ' and there 
 was no need to trouble her with mine.' 
 
 'Well I was in a real hard one this afternoon,' 
 said Eunice, ' and Davy thought his key opened it 
 right away.' 
 
 4 Did not Eunice think so? ' 
 
 ' I don't know — ' said the little girl. ' I guess I 
 didn't come out as fast as I might, when it ivas 
 open. You see I was telling Davy how I wanted 
 the strawberries for you, and how I thought it 
 would make a change to have more variety, and — 
 O what key would you have taken, mother ? ' and 
 Eunice looked up in amused questioning. 
 
 ' It takes a master key for a lock like that,' said 
 Mrs. Keith, her heart echoing every word not for 
 herself but for her child. ' Probably this one, Eu- 
 nice: " Your Father knoweth that ye have need 
 of such things." ' 
 
 Eunice clapped her hands. 
 
 ' The very one ! ' she said. ' I must tell Davy. 
 But now I must clear the table. Mother, here's a 
 queer man at the door. — Why it's that man that 
 rides behind the carriage ! — ' 
 
 ' Rat-tat-tat-tat ! ' went the knocker. Mrs. Keith 
 opened the dooi-, — Eunice peeped from behind her.
 
 98 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 There stood a tall footman in white stockings, buff 
 trousers, and purple coat. 
 
 ' The little girl's basket — ' he said, handing it 
 in. ' Miss Jane thought as W she mightn't have 
 h'another, and she wants the strawberries, uncom- 
 'on. And Miss Hada must 'ave the frogs by two 
 o'clock, she says. So don't forget.' 
 
 With which brief announcement, the tall footman 
 twirled his long skirts about him and strode away. 
 
 Neither mother nor daughter said a word. Eu- 
 nice had looked up with flashing eyes, but some- 
 thing in her mother's compressed lips stayed the 
 eager words upon her own. Silently she began to 
 put away the little remaining bread crust, and the 
 radishes that were left, — to keep cool for break- 
 fast; secretly watching her mother the while. For 
 the lips did not at first unbend, and a spot of vivid 
 red had stained the two pale cheeks. Privately, in 
 her heart, Eunice felt just a little bit triumphant. 
 Now her mother would see, she thought, how those 
 people could talk, and what they were like. Maybe 
 she wouldn't be quite so ready now to take their 
 money, — and Eunice made a little private ges- 
 ture of disgust all to herself. If they'd semi such 
 messages to her mother, what would they do to 
 her? 'Such a man !' quoth Eunice, with another
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 99 
 
 little toss of her head. ' Why if they were just 
 made of money, it wouldn't make 'em nice! ' Mrs. 
 Keith caught the airy gesture, and smiled. 
 
 ' Come here, little daughter,' she said, laying off 
 her abstraction. 'Never mind the candle for a few 
 minutes.' Then as the little girl sprang on her 
 lap and was wrapped up in her arms, the mother 
 asked : ' What are you thinking about, Eunice ? ' 
 
 ' If I'd been a boy,' said Eunice, hotly, raising her 
 head again, ' I guess that man would have been 
 sorry.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid I should too, in that case,' said Mrs. 
 Keith. ' Do you want a key, little daughter ? ' 
 
 Eunice smiled. 
 
 ' But wasn't he hateful,' she said. 
 
 ' He was ill-mannered — not hateful. You must 
 never say that of anybody.' 
 
 ' But you didn't like it.' 
 
 ' No, it was a disagreeable place to be in, even 
 for a minute. So like Davy, I took a key and let 
 myself out.' 
 
 ' Well I should have let Jam out, with a good 
 push, — if I'd been a boy,' said Eunice. 
 
 'That would have left me just where I was.' 
 
 And then Mrs. Keith began to sing: the low 
 soft voice making every word plain.
 
 100 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 " Christ, of all my hopes the ground, 
 " Christ, the source of every joy, 
 " Still in thee let me be found, 
 " Still for thee my powers employ. 
 
 " Let thy love my heart intiame, 
 " Keep thy fear before my sight ; 
 " Be thy praise my highest aim, 
 " Be thy smile my chief delight." 
 
 Mrs. Keith went through all the sweet, calm 
 verses, and Eunice listened, nestling close in her 
 mother's arms ; the overcharge of excitement 
 working off in a long drawn breath now and then. 
 When the hymn ended, she was quite quiet again. 
 
 ' How did you get out, mother ? ' she asked 
 softly. 
 
 • With what key of my bunch, Eunice? this: 
 
 ;t '0 thou wicked servant; I forgave thee all that 
 debt.'" 
 
 Eunice sat straight up in wide-eyed amazement. 
 
 'That was the man that owed ten thousand ta- 
 lents,' she said. 
 
 ' Yes ; and who after all his great debt had been 
 forgiven was hard upon a poor fellow servant who 
 owed him a hundred pence. Don't you see, love? 
 These little kindnesses and courtesies which are 
 really due from our fellow-creatures, are but the 
 debt of a f'-w pence, — trifling, easy to forgive, when
 
 CROSS CORNERS. iq\ 
 
 we remember that our dear Lord has cast the whole 
 mountain of our sins into the depths of the sea, and 
 will remember them no more.' 
 
 Eunice sighed a little again, but this time it was 
 for herself. 
 
 ' 1 s'pose I ought to feel so too,' she said, — ' but 
 I don't. Not always.' Then another thought 
 struck her, and she raised her head again. 'Has 
 anybody sent you some money, mother ?' 
 
 ' No, love. Why ? ' 
 
 ' Because you're not sewing,' said Eunice. ' I 
 don't think I ever saw you stop, before.' 
 
 Mrs. Keith paused a moment before she an- 
 swered. 
 
 ' I pricked my finger the other day,' she said : 
 'and to-day it feels rather sore. So I thought I 
 would give it an evening's rest.' 
 
 'Which finger?' cried Eunice, starting up. 
 
 ' This left thumb.' 
 
 In an instant the child had caught the suffering 
 hand to her breast, kissing and rocking it. 
 
 ' I thought God had sent you some money ! ' 
 she cried, ' and he has just let you prick your 
 thumb ! ' 
 
 ' Hush, hush,' said Mrs. Keith, kissing in her 
 turn the trembling lips. ' Why that is all my
 
 102 CROSS CORNEAS. 
 
 comfort, Eunice. " It is the Lord: let him do 
 what seemeth him good.'* Our Father which is in 
 heaven has a right to all my fingers, and both my 
 hands.' 
 
 But for all that, Eunice cried herself to sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The finger was no better next day. There was lit- 
 tle show of trouble, but holding the work so much 
 increased the pain that Mrs. Keith dared do it no 
 more. She had already ventured too much in that 
 way. But daylight is a more strength- giving in- 
 fluence than the darkness ; and Eunice jumped up 
 all toned and keen for work : quite ready, in fact, 
 to take the world on her shoulders. She never 
 guessed the darting pains that shot through that 
 idle hand: she never knew that her mother had 
 hardly closed her eyes all night: her own view of 
 the case was a very bright one now; her mother 
 must stop shoe-binding, and let Tier support the 
 family with strawberries. So she chattered away 
 over her dry bread breakfast ; and Mrs. Keith 
 smiled at her, and hid her own suffering quite 
 away. 
 
 4 1 s'pose I'd better go after the cresses the first 
 
 thing — don't you think so, mother?' she said. 
 
 (103)
 
 104 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Because I know the strawberries won't be ripe. 
 The sun didn't shine on 'em more than an hour, I 
 fc-uess.' 
 
 ' Yes, get the cresses and take them at once to the 
 Cross Corners,' said Mrs. Keith. 'And give noth- 
 ing to the servants, Eunice: always see the ladies 
 themselves.' 
 
 ' I guess I will — and I guess I won't ! ' said Eu- 
 nice, tying her sun bonnet. 
 
 'Come here and let me look at you.' 
 
 Eunice came — and the mother looked, from hair 
 to shoestrings, to see that all was in order : then 
 gave her a tender kiss and let her go. 
 
 ' I hope your finger '11 be all well before I come 
 back' — Eunice called to her from the outside, tap- 
 ping on the window. And Mrs. Keith nodded and 
 smiled another goodbye, but answered with no 
 words of hope of her own. No, this finger was to 
 be a serious matter, she felt. And thoughts — many 
 and troubled, and then peaceful, filled her heart. 
 For again that little golden key had ' brought her 
 out into a large place,' where from the outlook 
 was only sweet. 
 
 "It is the Lord: let him do what seemeth him 
 good." Mrs. Keith leaned her head back, and even 
 slept by moments, between the lunges of pain.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 105 
 
 Meanwhile Eunice, basket in hand, ran gayly 
 along the road ; and once reaching the brook, turned 
 short off and wandered away up stream, to where 
 the cresses were plenty. But dear me ! there were 
 bullfrogs, and sparrows, and robins, and blue birds 
 too ; with little fish in the pools of the brook, and 
 flowers along its banks. Except for the aching 
 finger, I cannot tell when the basket would have 
 been filled, but the thought of that made her hur- 
 ry. And with instinctive taste, when the little 
 basket was heaped with the dripping cresses, Eu- 
 nice picked sprays of blue forget-me-nots, and 
 strewed them over the green. Then with a last 
 loving look at the green bullfrog who sat on a 
 stone calling out "Ca-chunk! Ca-chunk ! " Eu- 
 nice jumped from stone to stone across the brook, 
 scrambled up the bank, and was soon at the Cross 
 Corners Cottage. But anything like what she saw 
 there, Eunice had certainly never seen before. 
 
 No danger of finding everyone away today ! 
 A bay window stood wide open, and the door, too ; 
 and out doors, in front of the house, stood the break- 
 fast table. But such a table ! Eunice, standing spell 
 bound, took in the details. That must be beefsteak 
 in that broad white dish; it looked like it and smelt 
 like it : ' a whole beefsteak ! ' said Eunice to her-
 
 106 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 self. And there were boiled eggs enough to set a 
 hen; besides a platter with golden rolls of some- 
 thing which might also be eggs. But now Eunice 
 got bewildered. Brown bread, white bread, baked 
 potatoes, and hot rolls, — pitchers of milk, — a dish 
 of honey, — all mixed up with pink and white cups, 
 great glass goblets and glittering spoons, — it turned 
 her head. She stood gazing with eyes that grew 
 unconsciously wistful ; smelling the rich coffee 
 fragrance, saying to herself: '0 if mother had just 
 a little bit ! ' "Of anything !" Eunice thought. 
 
 Round the table, in camp chairs, rocking-chairs, 
 all sorts of easy accommodation, sat her carriage 
 load of fairies; and the ribbands and lace and soft 
 flowing garments, were almost as dazing as the 
 breakfast. In the doorway was the waiter just 
 coming out with a plate of muffins. 
 
 Being but a little person, Eunice had not taken 
 in all these wonders until she was close at hand, 
 so that her pause was very near the table : and the 
 ladies on their part, criticising their breakfast, took 
 no note of the soft steps; and it was not till a long 
 deep sigh escaped the little girl's lips, that anyone 
 looked up. 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' cried Miss Jane, dropping her 
 fork ; ' whatever in the world is that ? '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 1()7 
 
 ' If you please, madam,' said the waiter, 'it's the 
 little girl and the basket.' 
 
 ' my strawberries ! ' cried Jane, turning round. 
 4 Come here, child, — don't stand there. Hurry ! 
 Maybe they'll give me an appetite.' 
 
 ' But it's not strawberries,' said Eunice, coming 
 close to Miss Jane's corner : ' there were no straw- 
 berries ripe. So mother thought I'd better bring 
 some cresses.' 
 
 ' So you had,' said Miss Jane : ' very sensible wo- 
 man. Hand 'em here, child.' 
 
 ' How can you touch them, Jane,' said Miss Ada : 
 ' all full of leeches and things ! ' 
 
 ' No ma'am, they're not,' said Eunice. 'I picked 
 'em myself, and picked 'em over. They're just 
 cresses.' 
 
 ' And forget-me-nots ! ' said Jane, with a cry of 
 delight as she opened the basket. " Vergiss-mein 
 nicht." — I won't, either! You delightful child, 
 what made you pick these ? ' 
 
 ' For money of course,' said Miss Julia coldly. 
 
 ' Well how much is the whole thing ? ' said Jane. 
 ' Lump it, now, child, — because I'm very poor, and 
 can't afford to pay for things separately. How 
 much for cresses and flowers and all ? 
 
 ' Please,' said Eunice (it was not too easy to edge
 
 108 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 in a word among these lively ladies) ' the flowers 
 don't cost anything. And I don't know what the 
 cresses are worth. Mother said you would know 
 what you had paid other people.' 
 
 ' But we got such wretched stuff in town,' said 
 Miss Jane ; ' and these are just magnifique ! Well 
 child, see, — shall we say a quarter for the cresses, 
 and throw the flowers in ? ' 
 
 ' The flowers aren't to sell,' said Eunice steadily. 
 ' But isn't a quarter too much for the cresses ? ' 
 
 ' Picked this morning ? ' said Miss Jane. 
 
 '0 yes, ma'am; I've just come from the brook.' 
 
 ' Imagine it !' said Miss Julia. 
 
 ' Yes, imagine it,' said Jane. ' And now you're 
 dying for your breakfast, I'll warrant ?' 
 
 ' I've had breakfast,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' said Miss Jane, ' I don't believe it. 
 Couldn't be, you know, child. Servants won't get 
 breakfast by moonshine, unless you're going to the 
 station; and hardly then.' 
 
 ' Jane, I am surprised at you,' said Miss Julia. 
 ' Such people don't have servants. 1 
 
 ' Don't they ? ' said Jane recklessly, — ' don't you, 
 child ? Who gets the breakfast ? ' 
 
 ' Mother and I,' said Eunice simply. ' And we 
 don't want any servants. I'd rather do it for mo-
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 109 
 
 ther. arid she'd rather do it for me.' There was a 
 certain dignity in the little girl's manner, what 
 though it was a trifle defiant, that was rather im- 
 posing. The ladies all paused in their breakfast 
 and looked at her. 
 
 'You are the most delightful midget !' said Miss 
 Jane. ' But I don't believe you know how to get 
 breakfast. Can you make things like that, child?' 
 and she pointed to a crisped yellow puff that just 
 then came on the table. ' Or did you ever see 
 anything like this ? ' — and Miss Jane popped such 
 a large, well-buttered section of muffin into her 
 mouth, that Eunice answered truthfully, 
 
 ' No ma'am.' 
 
 And the meaning was so evident, that all the 
 girls clapped their hands and shouted with laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 ' She has you there, Jane,' said Miss Ada. ' Never 
 saw anybody's mouth open so wide — did you, 
 child ? ' 
 
 ' So small a mouth ' — corrected Jane. ' Soper — 
 fetch me a large stem glass — and a small cup and 
 plate. And a dish, Soper. You are going to have 
 some breakfast, Midget, before you are three min- 
 utes older. Real breakfast, you know.' And Miss 
 Jane disposed of the second half of her muffin, and
 
 110 CROSS CORNEAS. 
 
 buttered another that came in smoking hot. Soper 
 brought the dishes, and then she bade him bring a 
 chair and two cushions; and pending the fulfilment 
 of this order, began to lift out the forget-me-nots 
 and place them in the glass. Arranging flowers 
 was one of Miss Jane's strong points ; and as Eu- 
 nice watched the white fingers that wrought so 
 deftly, an unconscious sigh of admiration escaped 
 her. 
 
 ' I wish I could do that — so,' she said. 
 
 ' You blessed child,' said Miss Jane. ' Sort the 
 flowers, do you mean ? O here come the cushions. 
 Set the chair here, Soper, by me; and then just lilt 
 the little girl into her place.' 
 1 Jane, I do protest,' said Miss Ada. 
 ' Happily my breakfast is done, — ' said Miss Julia, 
 leaning back in displeasure. 
 
 'What's the matter?' said Jane: 'the child's 
 as neat as a pink. Here, Midget, — you are to cat 
 everything I give you, — do you understand?' It 
 you leave a single crumb I shall put some more to 
 it, and make you eat that. So begin.' 
 
 Eunice, the while, had felt herself suddenly and 
 gently taken off her feet and placed upon the pile 
 of cushions, and before she had time to take breath 
 or sav a word, there was set before her such a plate
 
 CROSS CORNERS. \W 
 
 of dainties as had never appeared to her hungriest 
 imagination, even in dreams. But though truly 
 her dry-bread breakfast and early walk had left 
 her a keen appetite, yet somehow the little girl 
 shrank back from this savoury array. 
 
 ' I'd rather not, thank you, ma'am,' she said. ' I 
 had breakfast a great while ago.' 
 
 ' Why of course ! ' cried Miss Jane in triumph : 
 'that's just it. So long ago that you forget you 
 had any: and of course you're ravenous by this 
 time. Aren't you ? ' But Eunice was silent. 
 
 ' And of course you didn't have such a breakfast 
 as that,' said Miss Ada: while Jane dipped a hand- 
 ful of the cresses in salt, and devoured them with 
 great relish. 
 
 ' Mother said it was good, because God sent it,' 
 said Eunice. 
 
 ' Well loas it — ? ' said Jane, pausing with her 
 hand full of the green cresses. Eunice hesitated. 
 
 ' I don't love God as mother does,' she said, and 
 a quiver went over her lips. 
 
 For the first time now, the elderly woman at the 
 head of the table broke silence. 
 
 ' You have had a long walk, dear,' she said, ' and 
 now you'll have another long walk home. Eat 
 your breakfast, and call it lunch.'
 
 H2 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Besides, I shan't let you go till you do, — and I 
 know it would please your mother,' added Miss 
 Jane. 
 
 Privately, Eunice guessed that herself; and she 
 was very hungry — and the beefsteak smelled so 
 good. if she could only take it home ! — Howev- 
 er — and Eunice bent her head, and put her hand 
 over her eyes, saying softly her simple prayer: 
 
 '0 Lord, I thank thee for thy goodness. Bless 
 it to make me good. For the Lord Jesus' sake.' — 
 
 How Miss Jam- did eat water cresses then ! Mrs. 
 Cortland cleared her throat. Miss Julia stuffed her 
 lace handkerchief into her mouth; only black So- 
 per slowly nodded his head, and under his breath 
 added, ' Amen.' 
 
 If Eunice bad at first felt shy about eating her 
 breakfast under so many strange eyes, she soon 
 forgot everything in the great excellence of tin- 
 viands. For the child had a healthy ten-year-old 
 appetite; such as is not <asilv silenced upon dry 
 bread. And in all her life Eunice had never tasted 
 such delicious things. The steak 'almost cut itself,' 
 as she told her mother afterwards; the eggs were 
 mistified till she could hardly believe they were 
 eggs; and as for the rolls. Eunice thought she 
 lid have eaten them dry and alone three tim<
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 113 
 
 day, with the greatest ease. And here they 
 were even spread with fresh butter! — Nothing 
 of all this wonder and pleasure, however, ap- 
 peared; the little girl eat as quietly and slowly 
 as if she had been munching dry bread at 
 home. The ladies, watching her, noticed the 
 moderate way of the child, the delicate hand- 
 ling of cup and knife and fork ; and saw also 
 that the little hands though brown were clean, 
 and the nails carefully trimmed. It was a 
 very moderate breakfast, too, that the child eat; 
 and nothing could persuade her to take a second 
 roll. 
 
 ' Do you know how to read, Midget ? ' said Miss 
 Jane, eyeing her. 
 
 1 Yes ma'am.' 
 
 4 How to write ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ma'am.' 
 
 4 Who taught you ? ' 
 
 4 Mother.' 
 
 4 Is your mother a school-mistress ? ' 
 
 * No ma'am, she sews all day.' 
 
 4 Sews, does she ? Can she embroider ? work 
 fancy stitches, you know ? ' 
 
 4 O yes ma'am ! — mother can do the most beau- 
 Hfvl things,' said Eunice, her tongue a little thaw-
 
 114 CA'OSS COXiYEXS. 
 
 ed out by the breakfast. ' But she don't ever get 
 'em to do now: she binds shoes.' 
 
 1 Binds shoes?' said Miss Jane, stretching out 
 her dainty foot, — ' for pity's sake, are shoes bound ? 
 So they are, I declare. Then she's binding shoes 
 all this time? ' 
 
 • Xo ma'am,' said Eunice, ' not today; because 
 she's hurt her finger.' 
 
 ' Then you cooked the breakfast ? ' 
 
 ' I set the table,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' And cooked ? ' 
 
 ' We didn't cook anything this morning.' 
 
 • What did you have then? said Miss Julia; 
 ' cold ham and apple sauce ?' 
 
 1 Xo ma'am.' 
 
 ' What then ? But Eunice hesitated. 
 
 ' It was nothing you would like,' she said. 
 
 ' she's afraid of making us envious ' cried Miss 
 Ada. 'That is too rich, — and again there was a 
 shout of laughter all round the table. Poor Eu 
 nice flushed, and the tears came to her eyes. 
 
 ' I think I must go, if you please, she said, slip- 
 ping down from her pile of cushions. But Miss 
 Jane took hold of her and held her fast. 
 
 ' No, no,' she said, you can't go yet; and besides 
 you haven't got your money. Now what did you
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 115 
 
 have for breakfast ? really and truly, you know. 
 Here — whisper it to rne, — I'll never tell.' 
 
 It was a very pretty head that bent down to Eu- 
 nice, and the laughing- eyes were coaxing and 
 kindly, if they were a little reckless. Eunice 
 looked at them — then answered softly : 
 
 ' Just bread, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Just bread and butter and coffee ? — well, that's 
 not so bad. If they're all good. I take that myself 
 sometimes, at first.' 
 
 ' But we didn't have butter and coffee,' said Eu- 
 nice : ' it was just bread.' 
 
 ' Dry bread ! ' cried Miss Jane throwing up her 
 hands. 'I wonder you're alive, child. Here do 
 have some more beefsteak.' 
 
 ' No, I must go,' said Eunice eagerly, — ' mother 
 will want me. And I've had enough, thank you 
 ma'am. May I have my basket, please ? ' 
 
 In unwonted silence, Miss Jane emptied the bas- 
 ket, piling the fresh green cresses in a blue china 
 dish. She could not doubt the child's word, — 
 every look and tone of Eunice spoke simple truth; 
 but all the same, it was incredible. 
 
 1 Where are my frogs, child ? ' Miss Ada's voice 
 broke in, jarringly. 
 
 4 1 can't bring any frogs,' said Eunice, tying on
 
 j 16 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 her white bonnet, and secretly glad over the safety 
 of her speckled friends. 
 
 1 Why not? There must be thousands in .such a 
 country place, said Miss Ada. k Why can't you 
 bring them ? ' 
 
 ' Mother said so.' 
 
 ' Stuff ! Why did she say so ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't ask her, ma'am,' said Eunice, not feel- 
 ing obliged to give her private opinion as to reasons. 
 
 ' How provoking !' said the young lady; while 
 Miss Jane, watching Eunice keenly, was extremely 
 amused. 
 
 ' Well you'll bring my strawberries tonight ? ' 
 she said. 
 
 ' No ma'am, tomorrow. They must have more 
 sunshine to be sweet, mother savs.' 
 
 ' What a wise midget it is ! Tomorrow, then. 
 Those you brought yesterday did me ever so much 
 good. Don't you see my cheeks have grown red- 
 der already ? ' 
 
 Eunice looked up into the laughing face (a very 
 pretty faee it was too, as I said) and presently a 
 smile cam*' into her own sober eyes. 
 
 'Well do pay her for them and let her go' 
 said Miss Julia impatiently, Miss Jane took out 
 her purse.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. \yj 
 
 ' Fifty cents for berries (there was a full quart 
 child, counting all I eat on the way home) and twen- 
 ty-five cents for cresses.' 
 
 ' But I don't think the cresses ought to be so 
 much as that,' said Eunice. 
 
 4 That's what I should pay in town,' said Miss 
 Jane, counting out her silver; ' and these are a hun- 
 dred times better. Fifty cents and twenty-five 
 make seventy-five. Now how are you going to 
 carry it home, Midget ? ' 
 
 ' In my basket ?' suggested Eunice, out of breath 
 at the very idea of so much money. 
 
 'Then if one of Ada's frogs jumped at you, you'd 
 tumble down and spill it.' 
 
 Eunice laughed. 
 
 ' I don't jump when the frogs do,' she said. 
 
 ' Stupid, not to bring your purse,' said Miss Julia. 
 
 Eunice flushed but said nothing. 
 
 ' Have you got a purse of your own, child ? ' said 
 Miss Jane. 
 
 ' No ma'am.' 
 
 ' And the big family purse wouldn't do. See 
 here — I'll give you mine,' said the young lady 
 pouring its whole contents into her lap. ' You 
 must have one, because you'll be coming every 
 day for money, you know. There — ' and Miss Jane
 
 118 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 slipped three bright quarters back into the little 
 blue velvet affair, and snapped the clasp. ' That's 
 safe so far. This is for you to keep always and al- 
 ways, till it's worn out. Why how pleased the 
 child looks ! ' she cried, delighted; for Eunice had 
 coloured high, and her eyes were sparkling like 
 two fireflies. Never had she even touched such a 
 beautiful thing. 
 
 'Now hide it away in your pocket, and be ol 
 with you. And see here, child ' — Miss Jane stoope< 
 down and put her face almost within the white sun- 
 bonnet: 'what did you stop and hide your eyes for, 
 before you began your breakfast ? ' she whispered. 
 
 ' 1 was just asking a blessing;' said Eunice sur- 
 prised, but speaking in the same low tone. ' Mo- 
 ther always does.' 
 
 k Over the dry bread ? ' 
 
 ' yes, ma'am ! ' 
 
 The gay blue eyes looked straight into the young- 
 er gray ones for a second, — then Miss Jane drew 
 back her head, and gave the little bonnet a twitch 
 to set it straight. 
 
 ' Run away,' she said, — ' you're too queer to live.' 
 
 ' Here is your basket, child,' said Mrs. Cortland: 
 and Eunice took her basket, and made a simple lit- 
 tle courtesy, and sped away.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 This breezy morning, so bright out of doors, so 
 gay at the Cross Corners, had been grave enough 
 in the little brown house which Eunice called home. 
 Grave, that is, so far as increasing pain could dis- 
 turb the quiet heart which rested so securely on 
 God. Mrs. Keith would have tried a poultice — but 
 there was neither bread nor milk in the house, nor 
 one small coin to buy them ; for since Eunice went 
 out the landlord had come and swept away her 
 last cent. However, he was paid now for another 
 month, — that was a great comfort; but the very 
 last cent only just did it. Then, never very strong 
 herself, and now faint with the weariness of pain, 
 Mrs. Keith needed strong food — and she had break- 
 fasted on dry bread, and not much of that. Then, 
 there was no concealing it, her finger grew worse 
 every moment. And it was one of the important 
 fingers, — she could by no means sew without it. 
 
 But then, if she did not sew, how could she find 
 
 (119)
 
 120 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 even dry bread for Eunice and herself ? She sat 
 looking wistfully out at the dancing sunshine, the 
 keen throbs in her finger almost forgotten in th 
 anxious pain at her heart. 
 
 Eunice must have enough to eat: so must she, for 
 that matter, if she was ever to get strong agaii. 
 work. The need, the pain, the difficulty, seem*.', 
 like converging prison walls: then suddenly Mrs. 
 Keith remembering Davy's simple conceit, and 
 smiling, "took a key and let herself out." 
 
 "Your Father knoweth that ye have need of 
 such things." — 
 
 The reaction was so great that it brought (a very- 
 rare thing for Mrs. Keith) a rush of tears. But in 
 a minute she had cleared them away, and with 
 elosed eyes and folded hands and a happy smile on 
 her lips, she leaned her head back and was present- 
 ly asleep. 
 
 So Eunice found her; and having fortunately 
 peeped through the window on her way to the door, 
 came in silently, and bustled about as softly as any 
 mouse. As restlessly too, for she was all impa- 
 tience to tell her tale. But it was also a happy 
 thing (for Mrs. Keith's nap) that just when impa- 
 tience was gutting too hot to be borne, Eunice 
 perceived a corner of white paper poking out of
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 121 
 
 her basket. In her very busy state of thoughts, 
 she had brought the basket along, without think- 
 ing of it ; but now as she took it up again the basket 
 felt heavy: and swinging the cover back, Eunice 
 would have fairly cried out, had not surprise kept 
 her still. For while Miss Jane had been talking 
 and Eunice eating her breakfast, Mrs. Cortland, it 
 seemed, had packed the little basket as full as it 
 could hold. But with what? Eunice pulled up 
 the shielding white paper, peered in, and saw a 
 chicken leg — then drew back, setting the basket 
 down with much emphasis. 
 
 ' I don't want any of their things, — ' she said. 
 'And I don't believe mother will. O dear! I'll 
 just have to lug it all back again. I wish mother'd 
 wake up ! ' 
 
 And even as she spoke, a great twinge of 
 pain shot through the wounded finger, the brief 
 slumber fled away, and Mrs. Keith opened her 
 eyes. 
 
 ' Mother, you look so pale ! ' cried Eunice, spring- 
 ing to her arms. ' Is the pain very bad ! ' 
 
 ' It is there, yet. How long you have been, Eu- 
 nice.' 
 
 4 Yes, mother, because they just made me eat 
 some of their breakfast,' said Eunice lugubriously.
 
 122 CROSS CORNEAS. 
 
 •Did they? I am very glad. That was the best 
 thing my darling could have after her walk.' 
 
 ' Well I didn't want it,' said Eunice; 'though it 
 was as good as it could be, and I was very hungry. 
 And they had such wonderful things ! But I'm 
 afraid they've put some of 'em in here,' she went 
 on, bringing forward her basket. 'I never noticed 
 it was heavy till I got home — I was taking such 
 care of my purse. And I'm to keep the purse for 
 my very own,' she went on excitedly; ' and there's 
 seventy-five cents in it ! ' 
 
 ' Seventy-five cents ! — My dear little bread-win- 
 ner,' said Mrs Keith, drawing the little girl back 
 into her arms, ' The Lord has blessed us very great- 
 ly this day ! 
 
 Eunice returned the embrace with interest. 
 
 'Then yon wanted it very much ? : she said, draw- 
 ing back to look in her mother's face, but still keep- 
 ing her arms around her. 
 
 ' Very much.' 
 
 ' WVI1 there's loads in the basket, too,' said Eu- 
 nice, ' but I guess you won't want that. I didn't 
 know it was there till 1 got home, or I would have 
 emptied it out. 1 
 
 ' Emptied what out ? ' 
 
 •<> —things, said Eunice. I thoughl I saw a
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 123 
 
 chicken — and I daresay there are rolls. And I 
 smelt oranges. Here it is ' — and she brought the 
 basket and set it down at her mother's feet. 
 
 'You must unpack,' said Mrs. Keith smiling: 
 ' you know I have only one hand.' 
 4 is it bad yet ? ' said Eunice. 
 ' Pretty bad.' 
 
 'Well I don't know what's here, much,' said 
 Eunice, lifting her basket to the table; 'and I 
 didn't know there was anything, till I got home. 
 You see Miss Jane was talking just as fast as 
 she could the whole time; and Miss Ada was 
 talking frogs. And then I was eating my break- 
 fast. mother, if I could just have brought it 
 home to you ! ' 
 
 ' You seem to have brought my share at least — ' 
 said Mrs. Keith smiling. But Eunice bridled and 
 gave her head a little toss. 
 
 ' This isn't mine— this is theirs,' she said. ' Well — 
 here goes. And with some curiosity, and a set of 
 the head that was still rather airy, Eunice swung 
 the cover quite oif, and pulled away the first white 
 paper. 
 
 Yes, there lay an orange — no, tivo. Eunice rais- 
 ed her eyebrows as she laid the round yellow fruit 
 upon the table.
 
 124 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' They didn't know but we had dozens and doz- 
 ens of our own,' she said. 
 
 'No,' Mrs. Keith answered quietly, 'but the 
 Lord did. 
 
 Eunice paused in her voyage of discovery. 
 
 ' I wish you wouldn't always say that, mother ! 
 
 'Why not? it is always true.' 
 
 ' Maybe — ' said Eunice with a shake of her 
 head; 'but it makes me feel bad. Now what 
 comes next, I wonder ? Eggs ! — six eggs ! O 
 mother ! — ' 
 
 Mrs. Keith's eyes closed for a moment, and a tre 
 mour swept over her face. Not for the world 
 would she have had her child know her own 
 great need of nourishing food, nor how even 
 the fate of the sick finger might depend on her 
 getting ifc If it were so ordered that she must 
 lose the finger, Mrs. Keith had not a word to say ; 
 but this seemed to her a pledge that it should get 
 well. How good the Lord was to them ! She 
 looked up just as Eunice laid the last egg upon the 
 tal>l<-. 
 
 'Get a dish, love,' the mother said. 'They 
 might roll off and break.' 
 
 ' I don't think it would matter much,' Eunice 
 said to herself: 'only it would make a muss, and 1
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 125 
 
 should have to clear it up.' But she brought the 
 dish, and laid the eggs in carefully. 
 
 ' Mother,' she began then, going deeper down 
 into the basket, ; I'm afraid there's bread here.' 
 
 ' That will be very convenient,' said Mrs. Keith 
 quietly, 'for then we can have dinner at once, 
 without your going out again, Eunice. Let us 
 see.' 
 
 Eunice touched the next white papers with un- 
 willing dainty fingers, and took out from under 
 them a parcel wrapped in a fringed napkin, which 
 held, indeed, some of those very rolls from the 
 breakfast table. 
 
 ' And under that, a whole half a roast chicken ! ' 
 cried Eunice, as she pulled off another paper. 
 'Well I do say!' 
 
 'What do you say?' inquired Mrs. Keith. '7 
 say: "Blessed be God who daily loadeth us with 
 benefits." ' 
 
 4 Well I don't,' said Eunice. ' And I just wish 
 he hadn't, — that's all.' 
 
 ' Eunice, Eunice ! ' said her mother. 
 
 ' Well if you had to carry 'em all back, I guess 
 you'd say so too,' said the little girl, too hot with 
 her own tide of feeling to pay much heed to her 
 mother's words.
 
 126 CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 1 And as you have only to help eat them, I should 
 not think you would.' 
 
 Eunice left the table and came close to her mother. 
 
 ' You won't eat them ? ' she said. 
 
 'Why not?' said Mrs. Keith, smiling some- 
 what sorrowfully as she pushed back the brown 
 hair from off the excited little face. ' Eunice, my 
 child, I do not know what to make of you.' 
 
 ' We're not beggars ! ' — said Eunice, her breast 
 heaving with an unuttered sob. 
 
 ' Neither have we begged.' 
 
 1 Then they needn't give us things,' said Eunice 
 defiantly. The mother sighed. 
 
 ' Child,' she said, ' you are making hard work 
 for yourself. But come, we will have dinner, and 
 then you shall read to me; and then I have an er- 
 rand for you.' 
 
 Eunice laid all the things back in the basket 
 with joyful haste, and then ran off to wash her 
 hands and brush her hair and put on a clean apron. 
 Then she covered the table with a clean cloth, and 
 set out very exactly the two plates, the salt cellar, 
 the few trifles of table furniture which they pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 1 Now it's all ready,' she said. 'What have we 
 got, mother ? '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 127 
 
 'What you see, child.' 
 
 Eunice looked disappointed; by this time she 
 was getting hungry again. 
 
 'I thought — maybe — as you weren't sewing — 
 you'd have got it ready,' she said, with a shade of 
 reproach in her tone. Mrs. Keith said nothing of 
 the scarlet, aching finger, which made much doing 
 of anything difficult ; she answered gently : 
 
 'You know there was no money in the house, 
 love, except what belonged to Mr. Grab.' 
 
 ' Well you might have taken a little of that,' 
 said Eunice. 
 
 ' He has taken it all himself.' 
 
 ' 0, he's been here, has he ? ' said Eunice. ( I 
 don't wonder your finger aches. But we've got 
 money now, mother. What shall I get ? Just bread 
 and tea ? You might have a beefsteak noiv,' said 
 Eunice, with recollections of her savoury breakfast, 
 and limitless ideas as to the power of seventy- 
 five cents, — the first money she had ever earned. 
 She began tying on her bonnet again. Mrs. Keith 
 looked at her, thinking. 
 
 ' Come here, love,' she said. Then wrapping her 
 arms round the little girl, Mrs. Keith went on: 
 
 ' Listen, Eunice. You have earned this money; 
 and now you may go and buy whatever you think
 
 128 CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 you would like for dinner, and I will cook it for 
 you, or shew you how to cook it; but 1 myself shall 
 eat nothing but what the Lord has so abundantly 
 provided.' 
 
 ' In the basket ? ' 
 
 ' In the basket.' 
 
 ' Not beefsteak ? nor tea ? ' suggested Eunice. 
 
 'Not a mouthful.' 
 
 ' But mother — you wont eat those things? ' plead- 
 ed Eunice. 
 
 ' Indeed yes: very thankfully.' 
 
 1 Then you'll eat mine for supper.' 
 
 'No, little daughter. Whatever you buy while 
 we have such plenty in the house, will be for your- 
 self alone. But I give you leave to buy what you 
 please.' 
 
 Eunice wavered. Of course her mother always 
 told the exact truth. But then on the other hand 
 maybe she only meant today, — maybe tomorrow 
 would be different. ' And of course I can buy it 
 for myself, and then give it to her,' argued the lit- 
 tle girl ; with that poor reasoning by which self- 
 will is so often beguiled. 
 
 ' I guess she'll be glad enough of my beefsteak 
 for breakfast,' Eunice thought complacently. Sin 
 drew her bonnet strings tight, then hurriedly
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 129 
 
 opened the little purse and counted out her money. 
 Three new quarters. 
 
 ' I don't want to spend much,' she said, — 'just a 
 little. There, I'll take this quarter, and you may 
 have the other two. Isn't my purse a beauty ? ' 
 But what made her mother look at her so ? 
 
 ' Yes dear, it is very pretty,' Mrs. Keith answer- 
 ed. ' Now go, and do not linger ; for I am in great 
 want of my dinner.' 
 
 Eunice hurried away, full of importance over 
 her purse, her money, and her business ; and really 
 made good speed, and was back very soon: the 
 rocky facts of the case covered up and lost sight 
 of in her high tide of excitement. 
 
 1 I thought we'd keep the beefsteak for break- 
 fast,' she said, laying out her little packages : ( it's 
 so good for breakfast ' A quarter of a pound of 
 steak — that's five cents; and two oranges, two — 
 that makes seven. And a pint of milk, four — 
 that's eleven. And six rolls, seventeen. And 
 three eggs, twenty. And then I got a dear little 
 loaf of gingerbread for the other five,' said 
 Eunice with a long breath of satisfaction. ' I 
 thought we'd have the eggs for dinner.' She 
 bustled about, bestowing some little bundles m 
 the cool closet, and rustling others out upon
 
 130 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 plates; but now a new difficulty struck her, — the 
 eggs were uncooked. 
 
 1 mother,' she cried, ' may I light just a, few 
 chips to boil the eggs ? ' 
 
 'Certainly, dear,' Mrs. Keith answered; and sat 
 watching the little figure as it flitted about, with 
 sometimes a smile but oftenest a sigh upon her 
 lips. What was to become of this proud little 
 heart, in the pitiless rough-and-tumble of life? 
 How was the will of God ever to be sweet to this 
 defiant spirit ; so fond of its own way, so ready to 
 find fault with his arrangements ? When the fire 
 was lit, and Eunice came for her plate of eggs, Mrs. 
 Keith was watching no longer, but sat with her 
 head bowed upon her hands. 
 
 ' I'll be ready in a minute,' Eunice called from 
 the fireplace, — ' or at least in three. Now don't 
 speak a word, mother, 'cause I'm counting.' And 
 again the mother raised her head to look. 
 
 It was the prettiest picture ! In the little fire- 
 place the small pile of chips, now burned to a 
 bright glow; the small steaming saucepan, where 
 the white eggs were rolling about in the hot 
 wat<r. (Eunice had put them all in, Haying, ' Two 
 for mother and one for me'); and in front the little 
 girl herself.
 
 ROSS CORNERS. 131 
 
 " With head up-raised, and look intent," 
 
 as she checked off the seconds on her fingers; 
 speaking aloud that she might not lose her count. 
 Now and then she almost laughed — then forced 
 herself to be grave; then suddenly spoke the last 
 " sixty ! " with a little shout, set off her saucepan, 
 took out her eggs, and bore them in triumph to the 
 table. 
 
 Mrs. Keith, meanwhile, had left her seat, and 
 had taken from the despised basket a small piece 
 of chicken, a roll, and one of the oranges; placing 
 them in exact order upon the table; and now sat 
 waiting, with a sore heart that made her almost for- 
 get the sharp twinges in her finger. Ah, it was 
 hard to give her darling such a lesson ! But she 
 roused herself as Eunice came up, and spoke with 
 her usual cheerful quiet. If there was a word or 
 two in the implored blessing that Eunice did not 
 quite comprehend, she was too much excited to pay 
 much heed. Now she had started up and away 
 again, to fetch out one of her own oranges, setting 
 it by her mother's plate and pushing the other 
 orange away. Which last, indeed, round and yel- 
 low and big, did still greatly overtop and look 
 down upon the poor little shrunken intruder. But 
 to that Eunice resolutely shut her eyes.
 
 132 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Now mother, here are two eggs for you,' she 
 said eagerly. 'You see, I had two breakfasts, and 
 you didn't.' Mrs. Keith looked at her. 
 
 • Love,' she said tenderly. ' did you think I did 
 not mean what I said ? ' 
 
 ' What ? ' said Eunice with a sudden check. ' O 
 yes, — what did you say exactly, mother ? But 1 
 thought you meant — at least I didn't think— ' and 
 the little girl sat back and gazed at her mother in 
 silent dismay. The mother's face was very sorrow- 
 ful. 
 
 ' I said I should eat nothing you bought while 
 we had such a supply in the house, Eunice.' 
 
 'And you won't eat my eggs?' cried Eunice, 
 bursting into tears, — ' nor my beefsteak ? nor my 
 gingerbread ? ' 
 
 •No.' 
 
 The passion of excitement that burned in the 
 child's cheeks seemed to dry up her tears as fast as 
 they came. 
 
 'It's dreadful!' she cried. 'O mother, I never 
 thought you were cruel, before ! ' 
 
 'Come here, little daughter,' — and Mrs. Keith 
 drew the little girl into her arms. ' Listen, love, 
 and hush!' — for Eunice was now sobbing violently. 
 ' You wanted to throw away the things God had
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 133 
 
 sent us : how could I do that, unless I had forgot- 
 ten whose child I am ? T should not even dare do 
 it, Eunice: and I would not for all the world find 
 fault with his providing. I cannot go back from 
 my word, little daughter; and I would not if I 
 could. You see you have made a great mistake! 
 
 4 1 didn't think he sent 'em,' sobbed Eunice. ' It 
 was those horrid people.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! After dinner you shall read me a 
 story that will help you to understand all this. 
 And now, dear,' said Mrs. Keith, smoothing back 
 the child's hair from her hot face, ' now, Eunice, 
 sit down and eat your dinner. I am very tired and 
 faint for want of mine. That is the best you can 
 do.' 
 
 Eunice roused herself at once, at that, dried her 
 eyes; and though with still a tearless sobbing breath 
 now and then, went round to her place at the ta- 
 ble and took her seat. A little comforted by the 
 promise of explanation, very eager to do her best 
 even at this late hour, she took one of her own 
 rolls and broke it — then dropped the pieces on her 
 plate and watched her mother take a mouthful of 
 chicken. What it cost Mrs. Keith to sit there and 
 eat, watched by those sorrowful dear eyes, it would 
 be hard to tell. But she was truly in great need
 
 134 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 of food, as she had told Eunice; and besides her 
 part must be carried out. She said no more upon 
 the subject then ; beginning to tell Eunice the few 
 trifling things that had happened that morning: 
 how her naughty little pussy had brought in a 
 1 Flicker,' quite dead, and how a strange carriage 
 had stopped at the door, and someone had asked 
 for a spray of the white roses for a sick lady. 
 k Seems to me we have plenty of carriages,' said 
 Eunice, rather crossly. ' Did they fling down 
 another quarter for them?' 
 
 ' No, neither one nor " another,"' said Mrs. Keith 
 smiling. l I could not cut the branch nicely with 
 one hand, so I had to let the gentleman help him- 
 self.' 
 
 'I daresay he took the very nicest there were,' 
 said Eunice. 'If Miss Jane could see 'em today, 
 she'd want 'em every one.' 
 
 Somehow the cold chicken did smell very 
 good! Eunice broke off another bit of her dry 
 roll, and swallowed it with great effort: her face 
 was very cloudy. Eat one of those three eggs 
 which she had boiled with such delight? ' No, 
 I gv£88 not!' said Eunice to herself. She never 
 wished to see another i>gg as long as she lived; 
 and as for the gingerbread, the very smell of it
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 135 
 
 made her sick. Eunice looked round at this point, 
 to make sure the closet door was tight shut. The 
 beefsteak might go to pussy. But then, she re- 
 flected, her mother would not let her waste good 
 food in that way: she would have to eat it herself, 
 as long as it lasted. And Eunice knew well how 
 hungry she would be again by tea time, and in the 
 morning. She could neither live on air nor on 
 airs. Slowly her eyes filled with very hot drops. 
 Well, if this dry roll did really stick in her throat 
 and choke her — 
 
 1 That would be the end of me,' thought Eunice. 
 But no, — well she knew that would not be the end: 
 and now the changing colour flitted back and 
 forth over the child's face. Mrs. Keith, watching 
 her, eating her own dinner with the greatest diffi- 
 culty, could not for once read the look. 
 
 ' Mrs. Crusty shouldn't ask anything for her rolls,' 
 Eunice broke forth again, eyeing the crisp feathery 
 morsel in her mother's hand which had come from 
 Cross Corners. ' They are as dry as sawdust, and 
 as hard as chips, and as tough as my old basket. 
 I should think she'd pay anybody to take 'em 
 away. I should.' 
 
 Mrs. Keith could scarcely keep back a smile. 
 
 ' I wonder what sort of bread it was that the
 
 136 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ravens brought Elijah ?' she said. l The Bible just 
 tells that they brought him " bread and flesh in 
 the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening; " 
 but it does not say what sort it was.' 
 
 1 What sort of birds are ravens ? ' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Large black birds, — something like our crows.' 
 
 ' I would never eat anything a crow brought 
 me,' said Eunice with disgust. 
 
 1 If Elijah had said that, he would have starved.' 
 ' Well mother ! ' — said Eunice. ' You won't 
 think I'm very naughty to say it ? ' 
 ' I hope not' 
 
 ' Then I think it's very queer that the Lord don't 
 always send something nice to bring people 
 things.' 
 
 ' An angel, for instance.' 
 
 ' Well, yes — ' said Eunice. ' There are plenty of 
 them.' 
 
 ' Eunice,' said her mother, ' if you let yourself 
 say 'Why' to the Lord's arrangements, you will be 
 an unhappy, discontented person all your life. 
 
 ' " Faith can safely trust him, 
 ' ' Come what may/' 
 
 and faith is at rest, Be quite sure, child, that the 
 Lord never sends his children things unfit tor
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 137 
 
 them to have, nor in any way but the very best. 
 Now clear the table, dear, and we will have our 
 reading.' But the two oranges were left un- 
 touched. 
 
 Eunice obeyed instantly, and in outward silence ; 
 but talking much to herself the while. 
 
 ' Put 'em away ! — ' she said under her breath. 
 ' But / can never eat up all these things. Not even 
 if I wanted to. And the other roll will take the 
 hatchet to break it by tomorrow. O dear ! I wish 
 we had a pig ! ' 
 
 But no word of all this came out, nor any other 
 words indeed; for Mrs. Keith, refreshed and 
 strengthened, laid her head back, and even once 
 more got a few minutes of quiet sleep. But when 
 Eunice having finished her clearing away, came 
 gaily up with her mother's Bible and her own little 
 stool, Mrs. Keith's eyes were open again, and she 
 was all ready for the reading. Eunice had no Bible 
 of her own ; and so when she read aloud to her mo- 
 ther, it was one of the attendant privileges that she 
 should read from her mother's Bible. 
 
 4 Where shall it be, mother ? ' she asked in 
 eager expectancy. 
 
 ' I have been thinking a great deal about Elijah 
 today, Eunice: suppose you read the first seven
 
 138 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 verses of the seventeenth chapter of 1 Kings.' So 
 Eunice read : 
 
 " It shall be that thou shalt drink of the brook ; 
 and I have commanded the ravens to feed thee 
 there." 1 Kings 17. 5. 
 
 Eunice paused some time over this verse. 
 
 'Well I do think it was very queer,' she said at 
 last. ' And if I had been Elijah I shouldn't have 
 liked it one bit.' 
 
 ' Why not ? He had bread and meat and 
 water.' 
 
 ' I shouldn't like to eat what the birds brought,' 
 said Eunice with a gesture of disgust. 
 
 'Now I should,' said Mrs. Keith, 'if they were 
 God's messengers.' 
 
 ' Just think ! ' said Eunice with some heat, — 
 'there you'd be wanting your breakfast, and up 
 would come a parcel of ugly black birds ; cawing 
 and screaming and carrying things in their 
 mouths ! ' And Eunice gave another expressive 
 token of disapproval. 
 
 'And just think,' said Mrs. Keith smiling at her, 
 ' that you were waiting, waiting for your dinner, 
 and in all earth and sky there was no sign of how 
 you could get it. Then suddenly come soft wings, 
 speeding, hurrying along; and at your feet God's
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 139 
 
 messengers lay what he himself has chosen for that 
 day's supply.' 
 
 Eunice leaned back, looking perplexed. 
 
 4 But you make things look so different ! •' she 
 said. 
 
 4 Nay love, that is the way things are : it is you 
 who make them look different.' 
 
 ' Well if you'd just seen those people — and heard 
 'em — ' said Eunice, ' you'd never guess the Lord 
 had anything to do with it at all. Nor with them, 
 either.' 
 
 • No,' said Mrs. Keith, 'mas'be not. But now, 
 dear, read James 1. 17.' Eunice read: 
 
 " Every good gift, and every perfect gift, is from 
 above, and cometh down from the Father of 
 lights." 
 
 Eunice studied this verse, then sat looking wist- 
 fully over towards the little basket which had held 
 the despised dainties. 
 
 ' I wouldn't mind so much taking it from Him] 
 she said. 
 
 4 No matter by whom the Lord sent it ? Now 
 find Ps. 104. and read the 27th and 28th verses.' 
 
 44 These all wait upon thee, that thou mayest 
 give them their meat in due season. That thou 
 givest them, they gather."
 
 140 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 4 There it is, love,' said Mrs. Keith : ' that is the 
 way we should feel, and the way we should do. 
 Imagine a row of little birds sitting disconsolate 
 on the fence, because I end uot you had thrown 
 out their crumb breakfast!' 
 
 Eunice laughed, but the tears came into her eyes. 
 
 ' They wouldn't feel so long,' she said. ' They'd 
 like you best pretty soon. Mother, I'm sorry I was 
 so foolish : do you think the Lord was displeased ?' 
 
 ' Tell him so, and he will forgive,' said Mrs. 
 Keith. ' But it could not please him to have his 
 little child murmur at his providing.' 
 
 'And act as if she wasn't his child,' said Eunice 
 with a long sigh. ' I see. mother, must I eat all 
 those other things up, for a punishment?' 
 
 ' You shall do with them whatever you yourself 
 judge to be right,' Mrs. Keith said, after a minute's 
 consideration. ' Only they must not be thrown 
 away.' 
 
 1 No, of course not,' said Eunice. ' And I do 
 suppose I ought to eat 'em, for being so silly. 
 But mother — ' and the little girl threw back her 
 head and looked up into the quiet face, — 'now that's 
 all settled, and I've stopped being a goose, 1 hope, — 
 won't yon just tell me? Do you quite like taking 
 
 those people's things? '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 141 
 
 ' Yes, quite,' her mother answered steadily and 
 smiling at her, 'since our Father in heaven makes 
 them his messengers. But if you mean to ask 
 whether I have ever been as foolish as you 
 were, — then, Eunice, I shall have to answer 'yes' 
 again.' 
 
 Eunice clapped her hands. 
 
 'Then I don't mind,' she said. 'Oif?/owwere 
 ever foolish, mother, who knows but some day Til 
 be wise ? ' 
 
 ' Who knows ? Now love, put on your sunbon- 
 net, and go over to widow Kip's, and take her the 
 biggest orange we've got.' 
 
 ' yes ! ' cried Eunice jumping up. ' I'd like to 
 go, ever so much. But mother — ' 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' The biggest orange is yours. Please let me take 
 one of mine instead ! ' 
 
 'No indeed. Yours are yours, and mine are 
 mine. Run away now, and come straight Dack, 
 unless Mrs. Kip has anything for you to do.' 
 
 ' But mother, — ' Eunice hesitated, — ' then you 
 won't have but one. And I'm sure yours are the 
 sweetest.' 
 
 ' Now that is not worthy of my little daughter,' 
 said Mrs. Keith gravely.
 
 142 CROSS CORKERS. 
 
 4 I mean, I want you to have the best,' said Eu- 
 nice, the tears starting again. 
 
 ' I know, love. But this is my affair. Poor Mrs. 
 Kip has had so many lines drawn in her face by 
 pain, I should be sorry indeed to make her twist 
 it up over a sour orange.' 
 
 1 Well may I give one of mine to Davy ? ' said 
 Eunice. ' He won't mind.' 
 
 And with this permission Eunice set forth: the 
 sweet orange in a little, little basket; the (supposed) 
 sour one hid snugly away in her pocket. 
 
 ' I wonder if Mrs. Kip likes cresses ? ' she 
 thought. ' Miss Thing didn't say I must bring 
 her all of fhem. And I couldn't anyway, and she 
 couldn't eat 'em.' But remembering the muffin, 
 Eunice shook her head, and laughed. Then she 
 ran quick across to a near bond of the brook, and 
 gathered a pretty handful of the fresh green things, 
 and shook them into her basket until the yellow 
 orange was all covered up.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Mrs. Kip rented a little room at one end of the 
 bakery, and by ceaseless toil contrived to pay 
 the rent. Disease had made her too lame for act- 
 ive work, — it was only by the hardest effort that 
 she could move about at all; but her fingers were 
 untiring. Knit, knit, knit, from morning to night, 
 and often in the night, when she was wakeful 
 with pain. For Mrs. Kip's needles were quite in- 
 dependent of eyesight or lamplight. Gray stock- 
 ings, and baby socks, and men's socks; with now 
 and then a cap or a comforter or a pair of mit- 
 tens, — such was the ceaseless round. Once in a 
 great while a woollen jacket or petticoat came in — 
 at Christmas time perhaps — to vary things. Her 
 face was seamed, her fingers were crooked, her 
 whole frame was twisted and unshapely; her tone 
 and speech were not always of the sweetest: yet 
 Mrs. Kip bore daily more than most people, and bore 
 
 it patiently too. This afternoon when Eunice came 
 
 Q43)
 
 144 CKOSS CORNERS. 
 
 in, she was at work on a cotton stocking; the blue 
 and white ball jumping and floundering about in a 
 little basket, as Mrs. Kip's fingers flew over the 
 stitches. 
 
 ' Who is it ? little Keith ?' said Mrs. Kip, as Eunice 
 first knocked, and then softly opened the door. 
 ' Well it's a wonder. Some clay when folks stay 
 away so long, they won't find me when they come.' 
 
 1 Then you're getting better,' said Eunice. ' I'm 
 so glad. It '11 do you good to go out, Mrs. Kip.' 
 
 The woman laughed, a short harsh laugh. 
 
 ' I'll be better — 'fore I go,' she said. 'They won't 
 find me, 'cause I'll be gone. Gone further than 
 they'd like to go to find me.' And as her lingers 
 flew on, and the ball jumped and twitched, Mrs. 
 Kip broke forth and sang. 
 
 ' " Up from the sighing and the weeping 
 ' " I shall be soon." — 
 
 ' me ! I guess it '11 feel good ! ' 
 
 The voice was harsh still, and yet not unmusical ; 
 intense longing earnestness giving it both power 
 and pathos. The one human companionship the 
 lonely woman had was her own voice; and she some- 
 times sang to herself by the hour. Now she broke 
 off suddenly.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 145 
 
 ' What did you come for, little Keith ? * she said. 
 
 1 Please,' said Eunice, (there was something 
 weird in the room and the woman that always 
 startled her) ' mother sent me.' 
 
 4 Why didn't she come herself ? ' 
 
 4 She's always so busy,' said Eunice. * And to- 
 day she's got a sore finger.' 
 
 ' She needn't walk on her hands,' said Mrs. Kip. 
 4 What's the matter with it ? ' 
 
 She pricked it. And it's turned so red, and all 
 swelled up. And it makes her feel sick,' added 
 Eunice with a touch of championship. 
 
 4 Felon,' said Mrs. Kip shortly. ' Yes, I shouldn't 
 wonder. she'll have a time of it before she's 
 done Lose her finger, most likely.' 
 
 1 No she won't either ! ' cried Eunice. ' How can- 
 you say such things? She hasn't sent for the 
 doctor.' 
 
 4 Doctors aint much count,' said Mrs. Kip. ' But 
 what are you going to do about it if the Lord cuts 
 it off?' 
 
 Eunice stood looking at her, absolutely speech- 
 less. Could such a thing really be. 
 
 ' He won't ! ' — she faltered. 
 
 4 Don't know,' said Mrs. Kip: ' he might. He's 
 
 took and knotted me all up, I know that. But 
 10
 
 14G CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 then your mother is better'n I was.' And again 
 she broke forth and sang. 
 
 " I was a wandering sheep, 
 
 " I did not love the fold, 
 " I did not love my Shepherd's voice, 
 
 " I would not he controlled ; 
 
 " I was a wayward child, 
 
 " I did not love my home, 
 " I did not love my Father's voice, 
 
 " I would not he controlled." 
 
 1 There,' she said when the verse was done, — 
 4 what do you think of that, child ? A wild crea- 
 ture that never stayed still two seconds, set down 
 and tied down in a chair like this. Shews how much 
 the doctors know. 'Twas just about the last dose 
 any one of 'em would have thought of, ministers 
 and all, — and 'twas the only thing that cured me.' 
 She sighed wearily ; passed her hand over her face 
 for a moment, and Eunice could see her lips move. 
 
 For Eunice herself, she; felt so utterly bewilder- 
 ed and awe-stricken, that she set her basket on the 
 floor, and stood gazing at Mrs. Kip with folded 
 hands. 
 
 ' What did you come for, little Keith ? ' was again 
 the abrupt ipit'stion. ' Your mother didn't send 
 you all this way to hear me grumble, I suppose ?'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 147 
 
 Eunice caught her breath, and took up her bas- 
 ket again. 
 
 ' Mother had two oranges sent her, and she sent 
 you one.' 
 
 ' Gospel doing — ' said Mrs. Kip : ' " he that hath 
 two coats, let him impart to him that hath none." 
 Well, let's see what this coat amounts to. It can't 
 help being a change from biscuit and salt pork.' 
 
 More bewildered than ever, Eunice gave the little 
 basket into Mrs. Kip's poor hands. Mrs. Kip lifted 
 the cover. 
 
 1 Queer oranges,' she said, surveying the water 
 cresses. They've turned green, I suppose, since 
 my day.' 
 
 ' I forgot . cried Eunice. ' i" put those in, 
 Mrs. Kip, because I thought maybe you'd like 'em. 
 Mother does.' 
 
 ' Never did set much store by green sass,' said 
 Mrs. Kip, taking up a sprig however and begin- 
 ning to munch it. ' But they taste fresh. Well 
 that is an orange ! If they had such things up in 
 heaven, I should think this one must have come 
 straight down, instead of round about. Wherever 
 did you get it, little Keith ? ' 
 
 ' Mother sent it.' 
 
 ' Off her own trees, I suppose.' said Mrs. Kip
 
 148 CROSS CORKERS. 
 
 | 
 
 with a sharp look. However, that's no business o' 
 mine. I know how it came to me, first if not last.' 
 She sat weighing the yellow fruit in her hand, 
 turning it round, smelling its aromatic perfume, — 
 then began to sing again. 
 
 " The birds without barn 
 
 " Or storehouse are fed, — 
 " Like them let us learn 
 
 %t To trust for our bread. 
 
 " His saints what is fitting 
 
 " Shall ne'er be denied, 
 " So long as 'tis vrritten : 
 
 " ' Tbe Lord will provide. ' " 
 
 4 Now I never should have guessed,' she went on 
 musingly, 'that it was * fitting ' that I should eat 
 an orange like that. 1 don't look like it — not one 
 bit, — and yet the Lord sent it tome.' 
 
 ' 0, do you know that, too ?' said Eunice, catch- 
 ing hold at last of words she could follow. 
 
 ' Do 1 know what ?' 
 
 ' Why about everything coming from our Father 
 which is in heaven,' said Eunice. 
 
 'Do I know that?' repeated Mrs. Kip slowly. 
 1 Ami how on earth, child, should I live and sit here 
 year in and year out, if I didn't know it?' She 
 looked into Eunice's wondering eyes, then laughed 
 her short laugh.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 149 
 
 ' " When I was a child, I thought as a child," ' she 
 said. ' Don't meddle with grown-up things, little 
 Keith. Run away homeland tell your mother that's 
 the biggest orange I ever saw, and the first one 
 I've seen for five years, and the only one I've had a 
 chance of tasting for ten. That '11 be thanks 
 enough for a soul like her.' 
 
 So Eunice picked up her empty basket and tripped 
 away again, but not towards home quite yet. Back 
 into the village street, then on and on till she came 
 to the shoemaker's garden. And there sure enough 
 was David at work. 
 
 4 O Davy ! ' called Eunice through the palings, 
 ' are you most through ? ' 
 
 ' Not by two hours, good,' said David with a 
 glance at the sun. How do you do, small child ? ' 
 
 ' I'm well,' said Eunice. ' Only I feel 
 queer. Because I've been to see Mrs. Kip, you 
 know.' 
 
 ' Come to talk to me about her ? ' questioned 
 David. 
 
 ' No, I didn't come to talk, this time, Davy.' 
 
 ' What then ? ' 
 
 1 — business : I wanted to come,' said the little 
 girl, softly slipping her orange into the pocket of 
 David's coat which hung on the fence.
 
 150 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' " I wanted to come " is pleasure — not business,' 
 quoth David. 
 
 'Well so it was pleasure, — and business too,' 
 said Eunice, executing a very informal little dance 
 on the tips of her toes. ' Davy, what do you do 
 when you find things?' 
 
 'Wonder whose they are, most like,' said David. 
 
 ' Suppose you have to keep 'em ?' 
 
 ' That don't happen very often to me,' said Da- 
 vid. ' I can generally find the right owners.' 
 
 ' But if you had to keep 'em, Davy ?' 
 
 ' Then I should know the Lord had sent them 
 straight to me.' 
 
 ' They mightn't be good,' suggested Eunice. 
 
 * Good to me, — and good for me, — if he sent 'em,' 
 said David. ' What have you found lately, small 
 child? I thought you came to talk, after all.' 
 
 'O but I didn't, really,' said Eunice, 'and I'm 
 going right home. Davy, do you think there'll be 
 more strawberries ripe tomorrow ?' 
 
 • Hardly, where they were well picked yester- 
 day. The sun's been partly in a cloud. Maybe 
 there might be in some places. I'll run round and 
 let you know. Mr. Timothy's apt to have 'em ripe 
 in his field, if anybody does' 
 
 1 Aii'l won'1 it trouble von ?'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 151 
 
 1 Not a bit.' 
 
 ' Well then you are the nicest boy that ever was,' 
 said Eunice, 'just as I always said. Goodnight, 
 Davy,' — and with a secret pat to the orange, as 
 if exhorting it to be as sweet as it could, she 
 went off.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Eunice worried through another roll for her sup- 
 per ; thinking to herself that if the third went on 
 drying at the rate the second had done, she should 
 have a hard time of it for breakfast. But dry rolls, 
 and puzzles, and mistakes, were soon left far be- 
 hind ; and the tired little girl slept a sleep that, 
 had no alloy. 
 
 Not so her mother. She lay down indeed ; but 
 the hurt finger was so much the worse for it, thai 
 she presently sat up again, and took by snatch' 8 
 what sleep she could get, so. Thinking betw' 
 whiles of the day's work, so completely cut off; of 
 the day's supply, so unexpectedly Bent in : most 
 all, of her rosy-checked darling asleep at her side. 
 How much the little one had to learn : how many 
 hard lessons it might take to train that impulsive 
 young heart, and bridle the impetuous tongue! 
 But " it is good for a man that he bear the yoke in 
 
 his youth ;" and Mrs. Keith bowed her head to the 
 (152)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 153 
 
 Lord's dealing, as in every way wiser, kinder, surer, 
 than her own human plans could be. " Your Father 
 knoweth :" there was not an inch of the life road but 
 was marked and fenced and arranged for Eunice, 
 as for her. If but her darling would heed the 
 tokens! ' "Teach her thy way, Lord!'" — the 
 yearning, longing, prayer for the time made bodily 
 pain forgotten. 
 
 It was well for Mrs. Keith that she had had 
 something more heartening than dry bread to eat 
 the day before ; for suffering, and wakefulness, 
 and prayers, do all of them try the strength. To- 
 wards morning she fell deeply asleep, from sheer 
 exhaustion ; but even so, was up long before Eu- 
 nice opened her eyes ; and softly stepping about 
 the little kitchen, had taken a pail to go for water, 
 when David met her at the door. Of course he 
 carried off the pail and brought the water ; and 
 found the broom and swept out the kitchen too 
 before Mrs. Keith knew what he was about. Then 
 he talked over the orange in his coat pocket, and 
 Mrs. Keith told him its history ; thinking Eunice 
 would much rather not tell him herself. David 
 laughed and shook his head, but his eyes shone, 
 too. Then he brought a great basket of chips, 
 left a message for Eunice, and went his way.
 
 154 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' " It is your Father's good pleasure to give you 
 the kingdom," Mrs. Keith,' David said as he went. 
 'And since he don't do it yet awhile, — denies 
 himself, so to speak, as well as us, — there must be 
 some splendid good reason.' 
 
 Mrs. Keith finished her simple preparations 
 for breakfast, laid another big chip on the fire, 
 and then sitting down by the little stand she 
 opened her Bible. First at the verse which David 
 had quoted, with its tender preamble, " Fear not, 
 little flock." But then she turned back to the 
 grand old prophecy which saw the wonders of tin- 
 promise already made good. 
 
 " The time came that the saints possessed the 
 kingdom." — Daniel. 7. 22. 
 
 There they lay, the two golden links, bind- 
 ing the toilsome, cloudy days of 'Now,' to the 
 glorious Biinbright day of 'Then.' It was only 
 to be a saint, and follow on: that was all ; 
 for her, and for Eunice, and for David. How 
 patient the Lord was, with his restless, impa- 
 tient children! giving no harsher rebuke than 
 this: 
 
 "It was said to them that they should rest yet 
 for a little season." — Rev. 6. 11. 
 
 When at last Eunice, underpressure of a golden
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 155 
 
 sunbeam, opened her eyes, she heard her mother 
 softly singing to herself: 
 
 ' " Jesus, still lead on, 
 
 " Till our rest be won. 
 " And although the way be cheerless, 
 " We will follow, calm and fearless. 
 
 " Lead us by thy hand, 
 
 "To our Fatherland." ' 
 
 Sweet, glad, the notes were; and yet somehow 
 they gave Eunice a little prick; and something 
 rose in her throat as she jumped up and began to 
 dress herself. 
 
 ' I wish mother wouldn't sing such sighaway 
 tunes ! ' she thought. ' We're going on just as nicely 
 as can be ; and I daresay her finger'll be well in a 
 few days. Mrs. Kip don't know everything. O 
 dear ! — what shall I ever do with that beefsteak ! 
 I suppose it's just as tough as anything ever was : 
 everything I got seems to be lead. Oranges sour 
 (I guess) and rolls hard, I know. There now, — 
 that's another slow tune. Well I shall just ask 
 her not. — ' 
 
 And hastily giving the last touches to hair and 
 hands, Eunice presently dashed out into the little 
 kitchen, with, 
 
 ' Mother, why do you always sing such things ?
 
 156 CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 ' Good morning, love,' Mrs. Keith answered, 
 opening her arms to the little girl. ' Such things 
 as what, Eunice ? hvmns ? ' 
 
 ' No, not hymns exactly,' replied Eunice, ' but 
 such slow ones. Why don't you sing : " Joy to the 
 the world'" ? ' And Eunice drew back a little, and 
 looked in her mother's pale face. Mrs. Keith 
 smiled. 
 
 1 I do sing it in my heart, all the day long,' she 
 said. 'If I did not remember that "the Lord is 
 come," how could I ever sing " Jesus still lead on "? 
 But you shall have livelier tunes in future, Eu- 
 nice. Now let us make haste and have breakfast, 
 love. David has been here, and says there are ripe 
 strawberries in Mr. Timothy's meadow; and Mr. 
 Timothy has given you leave to come there and 
 pick your basket full.' 
 
 ' isn't he good ! ' said Eunice. ' But I daresay 
 Davy made him. I guess I shan't want anything 
 but this roll,' she went on, setting her purchase 
 on the table, and giving it a very contemptuous 
 -lance. 'By the time I've eaten this, I shall be 
 tired enough to stop. How is yours, mother ?' 
 
 4 Excellent.' 
 
 ' Well, I'm glad,' said Eunice with a little sigh. 
 • And you've got an egg, and I've got an egg.
 
 CROSS CORNEAS. 157 
 
 But oh dear ! ' — Eunice stopped short in the work 
 of taking- the shell off her egg. * Mother — it don't 
 look a bit like an egg inside ! ' 
 
 'What then?' 
 
 'It looks — exactly — like — a chicken!' cried 
 Eunice; cautiously picking off bits of shell, and 
 then dropping the whole thing on her plate. She 
 sat back gazing at her mother. It took all Mrs. 
 Keith's sympathy to keep back a laugh. 
 
 ' Then somebody has lost more than you have 
 gained,' she said. ' But it is not the first time a 
 chicken has been in an egg, Eunice.' 
 
 ' It's the first time one was ever boiled for break- 
 fast, I hope,' said Eunice severely. ' Well that 
 thing may go into the slop pail. This is a brown 
 chicken : I suppose there's a white one in the 
 other. I'll just chuck 'em both in.' 
 
 ' Better examine first,' the mother said with her 
 gentle smile. ' The other may be good.' 
 
 ' Nobody'll ever know,' said Eunice as she jump- 
 ed up and ran to the closet. ' I guess you won't 
 catch me finding out' But Mrs. Keith held out 
 her hand. 
 
 ' Give it to me,' she said. ' My little daughter, 
 you must learn to do the right thing, even when 
 it is disagreeable.'
 
 X 58 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 4 It was hard enough to eat 'em, even if they'd 
 been good,' said Eunice, watching as her mother 
 broke the shell. 
 
 4 This egg is good,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 ' But you won't make me eat it ? ' cried Eunice 
 in dismay. 
 
 ' No love : you may do as you like about that. 
 But then you must find some other good way to 
 dispose of it, Eunice : I will not have you throw it 
 away.' 
 
 Eunice drew a long sigh, and went on munch- 
 ing her roll. 
 
 ' I suppose this was baked about Christmas,' she 
 said. ' It's as hard — as hard — And I dare say the 
 milk's been skimmed at least three times over. 
 It's as blue as my apron; and most sour, besides.' 
 
 ' Eunice, love,' said her mother, ' you must not 
 grumble over your breakfast.' 
 
 1 But oh mother ! ' cried Eunice, ' God didn't give 
 up this: I got it for myself. I guess that's the 
 reason it tastes so bad ! ' — And dropping the bit 
 of roll, Eunice pushed her plate away and burst 
 into a flood of tears. 
 
 The mother's eyes filled. 
 
 Ah, these sharp lessons, that must be learned, 
 because our self-will will have it so! — learned for
 
 CROSS COR.XERS. 159 
 
 oneself and not at second hand. But Mrs. Keith 
 said nothing at first; then quietly put aside the 
 dry roll, and laid on the child's plate the remaining 
 one from Cross Corners, and also one of the fresh 
 white eggs that had come with it. 
 
 4 You cannot go to picK strawberries on a break- 
 fast of tears,' she said cheerfully. ' Now I want 
 you to eat these, and we will use up the other 
 things another time.' 
 
 Eunice refused and exclaimed, and by no means 
 wanted to do it, but her mother was firm ; and the 
 good breakfast soon put all tears to flight. She 
 talked eagerly about the coming work of the day, 
 finished her last drop of blue milk without a com- 
 ment; and then flew round the kitchen like a sprite, 
 washing up and putting away. Then tied on her 
 little white bonnet, hugged her mother after a 
 breathless fashion, caught up her basket, and was 
 oil.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The strawberries in Mr. Timothy's field proved 
 to be very fine. They had hung their heads there 
 among the grass and clover; drinking in the dew, 
 mellowing in the sun, taking their full time to 
 grow; and slowly turning from green to pink and 
 from pink to red, until they were ripe and sweet all 
 through. They stood so thick in some places, that 
 Eunice found out that even her small foot must be 
 careful where it trod. 
 
 There were other things to guard, too. A chip- 
 ping bird's nest, down on the very ground among 
 the leaves, and lull of the daintiest small eggs. 
 Then the great red heads of clover, about whieli 
 the honey bees hummed and sailed. The very 
 green leaves ol' the held were so pretty, that Eunice 
 could not bear to crush them. Overhead the dune 
 sky spread its ineffable blue; the dun- breeze 1>!>-\v 
 softly; the summer sun was none too hot. Eunice 
 breathed one sigh after another of fnll content. 
 
 '1601
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 161 
 
 The world was so pleasant ! It was rather nice, 
 after all, to pick berries and earn money, — only 
 not to spend it like a goose. 
 
 ' Yes, a goose ! ' said the little girl emphatically, 
 rising up on her knees and nodding her head at 
 herself. ; But I'm sure I don't know what Davy 
 means by the first lessons being easy. I think my 
 first was a very hard one. ' Let's see — which was 
 the first?' Eunice took off her sunbonnet and 
 fanned her hot cheeks. 
 
 ' It wasn't eating the rolls — because that came 
 last of all. Then before that, mother wouldn't eat 
 my eggs — Ugh ! ' Eunice gave a little shudder at 
 the recollection. ' Eggs, indeed ! ' she said. ' And 
 I don't like such very young chickens, myself. 
 But before that ? Well, I had to take all those 
 things out and put 'em away : I'm sure that was a 
 lesson, and a pretty big one too. I don't see what 
 Davy meant.' 
 
 Eunice sat back amid the clover, thinking a.s 
 hard as she knew how. 
 
 ' I don't — see — what Davy meant,' she repeated 
 
 slowly. Then suddenly cried out: ' O yes, I do, 
 
 yes, I do ! That was the first of all, when they 
 
 threw down the quarter and I would not pick it 
 
 up. What a wise boy Davy is ! He told me I'd 
 11
 
 162 CJtOSS COHNEJtS. 
 
 had a lesson. And just because I didn't learn my 
 letters that day, then next time I had a whole 
 word to spell, and didn't know how.' 
 
 Here Eunice drew a very long sigh (for such a 
 little girl) and bent down again among the straw- 
 berry vines ; thoughtfully gathering their crimson 
 treasures, and dropping them into her basket. 
 
 ' I don't think I like this sort of learning to 
 read,' she went on to herself: ' not a bit. And I 
 s'pose I'll have to do it, just the same as if I did. 
 Mother likes it. And Davy. 0, but they've learn- 
 ed. I didn't like t'other spelling, when I began : 
 only mother would have it. And now I can read 
 such beautiful things ! There's my Anna Ross, and 
 Rose and Emily, and everything in the Bible. I 
 wonder if Goo. will give me pretty tilings of an- 
 other sort to read, too, after a while ? ' thought 
 Eunice, with a strange sweet stir in her heart. 
 ' Such things as mother's reading, when she looks 
 just like an angel.' She sat back again among the 
 clover, laughing out. 
 
 ' O what a goose I am ! ' she cried. ' / don't 
 know what angels look like, — only I always think 
 they must look like mother. There, now my bas- 
 ket is full.' 
 
 Eunice got up and shook her short dress into
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 163 
 
 order, tied on her sunbormet and pulled out the 
 bows neatly; and then went coasting along the 
 edge of the field to gather blackberry leaves to lay 
 over her basket. Then she opened the gate and 
 went slowly through, closing the gate again with 
 a leisurely manner, as if that were pleasanter 
 work than what must come after. And truth to 
 say, Eunice did not enjoy this second going to 
 Cross Corners, much better than she had done the 
 first. What should she say about the gift of nice 
 things she had carried home so unthinkingly? 
 She must speak of them, for here were the two 
 napkins to take back; and besides, her mother had 
 sent a pretty message of thanks which she could 
 not fail to deliver. Eunice walked slowly along, 
 slower and slower as the cottage came in sight ; 
 thinking busily over these hard questions, and 
 very much hoping to find nobody at home. But 
 then she might not leave her basket with the serv- 
 ants, and if she did not leave her basket she would 
 not get her money : so altogether it was quite a 
 complication. 
 
 The house seemed very quiet. No breakfast ta- 
 ble spread under the trees, no chatter of gay 
 voices, no stir anywhere — except about the white 
 window curtains as they waved softly to and fro,
 
 164 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 and dark-hued Soper who was brushing down the 
 steps. Eunice went softly up to him. 
 
 4 Please,' she said, ' may I see the ladies ? Good 
 morning.' 
 
 Soper turned with a broad smile of greeting, 
 plainly recollecting Eunice quite well. 
 
 ' Hope de chile's had a good mornin',' he said, — 
 ' rather a late part of de day now. But de ladies 
 is all gone out, honey, 'cept Miss Jane — and she's 
 powerful bad with her head.' 
 
 ' — then I can't see her ! ' said Eunice. 
 
 4 'Spec' not, honey. Said she wouldn't see de 
 king and all de royal fam'ly.' Eunice hesitated. 
 
 4 Here's two napkins,' she said, 4 and mother's 
 thanks. You might take them. Do you think 
 perhaps Miss Jane could see my basket ? ' 
 
 4 Strawberries ? ' queried Soper. Eunice nodded. 
 Soper pondered in his turn. 
 
 4 Don' know, that's a fact,' he said. 4 Miss Jane's 
 headaches is various. Jes' you wait a minute till 
 de brush get down to de foot of de steps, and I'll 
 see and quire.' 
 
 Soper's brush began again at the double quick, 
 and Eunice stood still, watching him. Then sud 
 denly a voice called lightly out of an open window 
 over the hall door-
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 155 
 
 1 Soper — what on earth are you talking to your- 
 self so about?' 
 
 Soper favored Eunice with a satisfied and satis- 
 factory nod of his head. 
 
 ' 'Bout de fruits of de earth, and de people of de 
 earth, for general, Miss Jane,' he answered respect- 
 fully; standing up and standing back so as to 
 command the window. ' In particular, 'bout de 
 little girl and her basket.' 
 
 ' What little girl ? My strawberry child ? ' 
 
 'Yes madam.' 
 
 Instantly Miss Jane's head (somewhat confused 
 without if not within) came into view. 
 
 ' Have you brought my strawberries ? ' she 
 cried. 
 
 ' Yes ma'am,' said Eunice, with her little courte- 
 sey. 
 
 ' Bring them right up here, this minute,' com- 
 manded Miss Jane. ' Don't you see I'm sick abed 
 for the want of them ? Well what's the child wait- 
 ing for?' 
 
 ' Please — I don't know the way,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' said Miss Jane: 'don't know 
 the way upstairs ! Fetch her up, Soper, can't you ? 
 — and a plate, and the white sugar, and a fork — 
 and a napkin.' And Miss Jane's head popped m
 
 1GG CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 again — then instantly out to add — 'And a finger 
 bowl ! ' 
 
 Soper laid down his brush, and murmuring to 
 himself with a slow shake of the head, • Various — 
 very various,' he led the way into the house, fol- 
 lowed by the wondering Eunice. She watched 
 with all her eyes while he arranged the little tray, 
 and then tripped upstairs after him ; feeling sure 
 that she must be in fairyland now, beyond a 
 doubt. For it was all so unlike home — unlike any 
 part of the work-a-day world, with which Eunice 
 was familiar. Soft mats at every door, and polish- 
 ed door knobs; and before her Soper's dark figure, 
 resplendent in snow white apron and yellow slip- 
 pers. And when he paused on the landing, and 
 threw open Miss Jane's door, Eunice fairly held 
 her breath and was afraid to enter. 
 
 The windows were partly shaded with pink and 
 white curtains, a great soft rug lay on the floor; 
 and chairs of every variety of shape and case stood 
 4 everywhere' — as Eunice described it afterwards. 
 Then there was a table quite littered up with pretty 
 things: pens, paper, desk, books, letters, paper- 
 weights, and a host of trifles with unknown names. 
 Another table by the wall held cut glass bottles, 
 red and blue boxes, hand glasses, brushes, a white
 
 CROSS CORKERS. 167 
 
 and pink pincushion, and a large toilet glass. Be- 
 tween these two, but nearer the windows, was a dain- 
 ty couch, covered with some sort of crimson stuff, 
 on which at present reclined Miss Jane, in a sky 
 blue silken wrapper. A soft white sofa blanket was 
 half over her, half tossed off; the blue wrapper fell 
 away over the folds of an embroidered petticoat ; 
 from under which white folds one little foot held 
 out a blue slipper, poised on the ends of its toes. 
 
 Following Soper, walking in a dream, Eunice 
 went two steps into the room, then again stopped 
 short with a start of astonishment. For there fac- 
 ing her as she turned, was a great mirror, set in a 
 frame. That was what it was. But what Eunice 
 smv, was her own little self: a mite of a figure in 
 brown calico and white cotton sunbonnet, with 
 little brown hands holding a basket, and very 
 flushed cheeks beneath the bonnet. Such an odd 
 little figure with all those silken surroundings ! — 
 Eunice did not know herself in the least; in fact 
 she did not know that lookingglasses of such size 
 could be made ; and her first thought was of another 
 little girl and another basket of berries, which had 
 both together got there before her. 
 
 ' She's got a frock like mine, too,' thought Eunice : 
 1 there's the very same little red rosebuds. And
 
 168 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 her sunbonnet's made just like mine, — and it's my 
 basket ! — I wonder ! — ' 
 
 And now she stepped suddenly up to the little 
 figure, coming towards her in its turn: then stood 
 still again, with an air of such bewildered amaze- 
 ment that Miss Jane shouted with laughter. 
 
 4 Well, Midget,' she said, 4 how do you like your- 
 self on the whole? — now you've had a good look.' 
 Eunice started and came forward, blushing 
 deeply. 
 
 : 1 didn't know it was myself,' she said. ' I didn't 
 know lookingglasses could be so big.' 
 
 4 Or little girls so little. — Well what do you 
 think of yourself, any how ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think much of myself,' said Eunice 
 quaintly. ' Not to-day. But here are the two 
 little napkins, ma'am ; and mother said she enjoy- 
 ed — No, that wasn't it,' said Eunice, knitting her 
 brows. ' She said — she said you were very kind, 
 and the things you sent have done her good.' 
 
 4 Well then she must have enjoyed them,' said 
 M iss Jane. 4 Didn't she ? ' 
 
 4 I don't think she did,' said Eunice unwillingly. 
 
 4 Why not ? Weren't they good? ' 
 
 'I guess they were,' said Eunice, — 'but then, I 
 wasn't.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 169 
 
 4 0, I begin to understand,' said Miss Jane. 
 'Your mother takes you with her dinner, like a 
 sort of sweet pickles ; and yesterday they turned 
 into hot pickles, — hey ? Give me the strawberries, 
 child- Don't you see I'm dying for them ?' And 
 Miss Jane opened the basket, and began eating at 
 once. 
 
 1 Take off your sunbonnet,' she said. 
 
 4 No, ma'am, I must go,' said Eunice. Miss Jane 
 raised herself up, and catching off the little white 
 bonnet, tossed it over on a chair behind the couch. 
 
 4 There,' she said : ' now be quiet. Sit down on 
 that foot cushion, Midget, for I've got forty ques- 
 tions to ask you. And first ring my bell there, — 
 the red cord, child, pull that. Don't you know 
 what a bell rope is ? ' 
 
 ' No ma'am, — I never did before,' said Eunice, 
 giving the pretty silken cord a gentle pull. 
 
 ' Harder, child ! Not a creature in this house 
 will stir for such a tinkle as that. Thev'll think 
 it's the mice. Pull two or three times, till you can 
 hear it.' 
 
 Eunice pulled and pulled, afraid of pulling too 
 hard, till sure enough the bell downstairs gave 
 out an unmistakable peal. She turned round with 
 her eyes sparkling.
 
 170 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 How pretty that is ! ' she said. 
 
 ' Don't you have bells at your house ? ' said Miss 
 Jane, eyeing her between strawberries. 
 
 'No ma'am. There's nobody to ring for,' said 
 Eunice. 
 
 ' True,' said Miss Jane. ' What a philosopher it 
 is ! Come here, Midget, and sit down. How did 
 you like your dinner yesterday when you got 
 home ? ' 
 
 Eunice reddened. 
 
 4 1 didn't like it at all,' she said. 
 
 ' What ?' quoth Miss Jane, knitting her brows. 
 ' Didn't like it at all ? What does that mean ?' 
 
 ' It means — that,' said Eunice. 
 ' Succinct and clear,' said Miss Jane. ' Why didn't 
 you like it ? ' 
 
 1 Because it wasn't good. And because /wasn't,' 
 said Eunice honestly. 
 
 ' Well now see here,' said Miss Jane with a 
 twinkle in her eye; 'I've no objection to your 
 being as bad as you please, but I won't have you 
 spoil my rolls and oranges. What did you do to 
 them on the way home ? They were all right 
 when they left here.' 
 
 'But then I was all wrong,' said Eunice, with 
 her old fashioned High.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 171 
 
 ' And so you turned 'em sour, hey ? ' said Miss 
 Jane. 
 
 ' No, ma'atn. Mother didn't say so.' 
 
 ' Did she like them ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ma'am.' 
 
 ' And you didn't. That needs explanation,' said 
 Miss Jane, putting her feet to the floor and pull- 
 ing Eunice — bench and all — up to the side of the 
 couch, with extraordinary energy for a young lady 
 with so bad a headache. 'Now, Midget, you're 
 to sit there till you've told me the whole story. 
 I'm not a person to be fooled with.' And Miss 
 Jane shook her head at Eunice, and put on her 
 very gloomiest face. 
 
 Eunice glanced up at her. 
 
 ' I can't sit here,' she said. ' I must go, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Miss Jane, eating strawberries 
 at a furious rate, — ' you shall go as soon as I hear 
 the story. Till I do you sit there. So begin.' 
 
 Thus fairly brought to bay, Eunice spoke. 
 
 ' I didn't eat any of your things for dinner,' she 
 said; ' and what 1 did eat wasrit good.' 
 
 ' You hadn't any of ' my things' to eat,' corrected 
 Miss Jane. 'After I had given them to you they 
 were your own. So why didn't you eat them ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't want to — ' said Eunice, — and the small
 
 172 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 head gave a slight airy gesture that was a revela- 
 tion to Miss Jane. 
 
 1 So, so ! ' she said. * Is that the state of the case. 
 Why didn't you want to?' 
 
 'Because,' — said Eunice colouring. 'And I 
 didn't want mother to, but she would. She said 
 God sent it, — and she likes everything he sends.' 
 
 ' And you don't,' said Miss Jane. ' Well I think 
 you're the silliest little girl — and have got the 
 wisest mother — of all the little girls I know. Now 
 how can you be so silly, with such a wise 
 mother ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, ma'am,' said Eunice humbly. ' I 
 was trying to find out just now in the strawberry 
 bed. And I guess it must have been because I 
 didn't learn the first lesson. Davy said if I shirked 
 that, the second would be hard.' 
 
 ' Always is,' said Miss Jane. ' What was the 
 first lesson, pray ? ' 
 
 Eunice coloured again, and hung her head. 
 
 'It was when you threw down the quarter' — 
 she said. ' And I was angry. And I wouldn't ever 
 have picked it up, only then mother would have 
 done it.' Eunice did not raise her eyes after this 
 last avowal, but sat studying the figures in the 
 wonderful mat. And Miss Jane studied her: <at-
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 173 
 
 ing strawberries the while, but rather slowly and 
 meditatively. 
 
 ' Who is Davy ? ' she asked suddenly. 
 
 ' 0, Davy is the very best boy in all the world ! ' 
 said Eunice brighteuing up. ' He knows most 
 everything, I think, and he's just as nice as he can 
 be.' 
 
 ' Must be — if he's the best boy in the world, 
 said Miss Jane, slowly dividing a big strawberry 
 with her white teeth. But that's only what. — Who 
 is he, child ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Eunice, — ' he's just Davy. 
 He's a big boy, ma'am ; and his father and mother 
 died a great, great while ago, — and I guess he 
 never had anybody but God to take care of him. 
 He digs, and goes errands, and helps people make 
 hay. And he knows the Bible all through, I 
 think. And he wants to be a minister ' — added the 
 little girl, dropping her voice as if this last bit of 
 news were a state secret. 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' said Miss Jane. ' Does he 
 live in your house, for pity's sake ? ' 
 
 ' O no, ma'am,' said Eunice, ' I wish he did. He 
 lives at Mrs. Crusty's. But he works every- 
 where.' 
 
 ' Must be a busy boy,' said Miss Jane. ' I guess
 
 174 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 I'll get him to work for me. Well, go on with 
 your story, Midget: I've got to hear every word. 
 What did you eat for dinner instead of cold 
 chicken ? ' 
 
 Thus urged, and feeling moreover a little more 
 at her ease, — and with her tongue fairly set going, 
 Eunice gave the full history of yesterday's dinner, 
 and then of this morning's breakfast as well. And 
 .Miss Jane listened with such an interested face as 
 drew the little talker on from point to point, 
 though she could by no means read its changes 
 of expression. But when Eunice came to her own 
 unfortunate experience in eggs, Miss Jane pushed 
 aside the strawberry basket, and put her little lace 
 handkerchief to her face, and laughed, — laughed 
 as Eunice thought she had never seen anybody do 
 in all her life; and until the tears came and ran 
 down her cheeks, so that the little handkerchief 
 was really useful. 
 
 ' Midget, Midget ! ' she cried — ' do stop ! If I 
 die of laughing, you'll go to jail, you know.' 
 
 Eunice did not quite see the connection between 
 the two things; nor indeed between her story and 
 the fun; -but she was quite ready to stop: — so she 
 sat silently looking on, while Miss Jane wiped her 
 eyes with her lace handkerchief.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 175 
 
 ' It is the very richest thing that ever I heard ! ' 
 said that young lady with another outburst. ' Such 
 a farce ! Such a tempest in a teapot! And so your 
 mother could eat my rolls, hey, without having 
 them stick in her throat ? ' 
 
 4 Please,' said Eunice, ' I don't think mother 
 thought about you at all.' 
 
 ' Flattering,' said Miss Jane. ' How did she 
 suppose they got there, I should like to know ? ' 
 
 ' She thought God sent them.' 
 
 ' H'm — ' said Miss Jane with a peculiar express- 
 ion : ' what made her think that? ' 
 
 ' She says he sends everything.' 
 
 ' Your bad eggs too, I suppose.' 
 
 ' O no, ma'am,' said Eunice, ' I got those for 
 myself.' 
 
 4 Nice distinctions,' quoth Miss Jane. ' I should 
 like to know how you find all that out.' 
 
 1 Why it's in the Bible,' said Eunice. ' I don't 
 remember the chapter, but I could find it.' And 
 she looked about the room for that strong box of 
 wisdom which at home was always in sight. There 
 was everything else on those little tables, — was 
 there no Bible there ? 
 
 * I could find it in two minutes,' the little girl re- 
 peated, with another exploring look.
 
 170 CROSS COKA'EKS. 
 
 v You needn't hunt round for mine, 1 said Miss 
 Jane, the peculiar expression coming over her face 
 again. « I never lend my Bible to anybody— not 
 even for two minutes. You can bring your own 
 the next time you come, and shew me in that.' 
 
 But Eunice shook her head. 
 
 ' It's too big to carry so far, with the basket,' 
 she said : ' it's mother's big one. So — big, I guess 
 it is. I haven't got any other.' 
 
 ' No Bible of your own? ; said Miss Jane gravely, 
 with a lift of her eyebrows. ' I am surprised ! ' 
 
 Eunice looked at her, with a puzzled face. 
 
 ' T always read with mother,' she said, ' so it's 
 just as nice. Nicer I think. O I think Davy 
 would lend me his ! Ilis is small.' 
 
 ' Does Davy have a Bible too ? ' 
 
 ' O yes, ma'am ! He carries it in his pocket all 
 the time. Davy couldn't live without the Bible. 
 He says it's his storehouse. And sometimes it's his 
 keybasket,' she added laughing. Miss Jane settled 
 herself a little on the couch, resting her cheek on 
 her hand. 
 
 4 Go on, Mirlget,' she said. « I had no idea un- 
 known tongues were so entertaining. Why does 
 he call it a keybasket ? ' 
 
 '() that's where he -vis his keys,' said Eunice :
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 177 
 
 ' when he's in a hard place and can't get out. Then 
 he takes something in the Bible. He says it's just 
 like the way Peter got out : the angel opened two 
 or three doors, and then the last one opened of 
 itself.' 
 
 ' Now Midget,' said Miss Jane severely, ' you are 
 getting things mixed. How could a book be like 
 an angel, pray ? That's just clear nonsense.' 
 
 ' not the book !' said Eunice eagerly, » but 
 the things in it; the promises, you know. Davy 
 says an angel's just a messenger, — and so he thinks 
 a promise is a messenger too, I 'spose.' 
 
 4 A messenger ! ' repeated Miss Jane. 
 
 'Yes ma'am. Something God sends with a 
 message.' 
 
 Miss Jane leaned her head back, looking away 
 with a half sigh. 
 
 ' I should like to see an angel — for once,' she 
 said. 
 
 'So should I,' said Eunice, but with an air of 
 pleased contemplation very far removed from 
 sighs. ' If he brought a nice message.' 
 
 ' Don't angels always bring nice messages ? ' 
 demanded Miss Jane, facing round again. 
 
 ' no, ma'am ! There was Balaam, you know.' 
 
 ' Balaam wasn't an angel — that ever I heard,' 
 
 12
 
 178 CKOSS CORNERS. 
 
 said Miss Jane. ' I thought he was just the owner 
 of a very remarkable ass.' 
 
 'Well so he was,' said Eunice. 'But then 
 when he would go where he oughtn't, the Lord 
 sent an angel to stop him, with a drawn sw< 
 And David saw an angel with a sword, too.' 
 
 'Maybe they all wear swords,' said Miss Ja 
 with half shut eyes, drawing the child on. 
 
 ' no they don't,' said Eunice. ' At least they 
 don't all always wear 'em. The Bible don't say 
 so. I guess they didn't have any at the sepulchre. 
 They just frightened the keepers 'most to death, 
 wnth their faces like lightning.' 
 
 ' You are so wise' — said Miss Jane, crossing her 
 arms over her head and eyeing Eunice; — ' you are 
 so fearfully wise ! — I should be an old woman in a 
 week, if I heard you talk. Bless me ! — you know 
 as much about angels and swords and lightning, 
 as I do about my crochet work.' 
 
 Eunice gazed in her turn, rather wistfully. 
 
 'Mother always likes to read about the resur- 
 rection sinci — since year before last,' — the little 
 voice faltered. ' And so of course I've read it a 
 good deal, too,' she went on. ' But it hasn't made 
 an old woman of her. Her face is just as smooth 
 as it can be; and you never saw such bright eyes.
 
 CROSS CORA T ERS. 179 
 
 I think she looks younger than you do, Miss Jane/ 
 — with another earnest glance. 
 
 But at that Miss Jane sat straight up. 
 
 ' Do you mean to say that my face isn't smooth 
 and my eyes not bright ?' she said. 
 
 ' O no, ma'am, not generally, said Eunice. * But 
 mother's eyes are just like the sky when there isn't 
 a cloud anywhere.' 
 
 " Feeling nor thought that was not true, 
 Ne'er made less beautiful the blue 
 Unclouded heaven of her eyes." 
 
 So Miss Jane quoted to herself. 
 
 ' My eyes are blue too, Midget,' she said aloud. 
 
 ' Yes ma'am, — but they're different.' 
 
 4 Different from most eyes, some people think,' 
 quoth Miss Jane. 'You are a very impertinent 
 child to say my eyes are cloudy.' 
 
 ' No ma'am, only sometimes.' 
 
 4 Everybody's are, sometimes.' 
 
 ' Not mother's.' 
 
 4 Yes they are,' insisted Miss Jane. ' Don't tell 
 me any such nonsense : I know better. When she 
 
 has the toothache, you know. Or the headache 
 
 as I have.' 
 
 4 She never has headaches,' said Eunice, 4 and
 
 180 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 she never has toothache ; but the fingerache don't. 
 And her finger aches dreadfully.' 
 
 4 What's the matter with it?' 
 
 ' O I don't know,' said Eunice, ' only she pricked 
 it, And now it's as red — as red as your ribbands, 
 Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' Stuff! ' said Miss Jane. ' My ribbands arc 
 bright scarlet. What does the doctor say ? ' 
 
 ' she hasn't seen the doctor,' said Eunice, knit- 
 ting her small brows: ' he costs so much.' 
 
 ' Costs so much ! ' — 
 
 ' Why yes, ma'am,' said Eunice, — ' to be sure he 
 does. Don't you know that ? ' 
 
 ' Well in all my life ! ' — said the young lady, 
 gazing at Eunice, ' I shall be bankrupt in excla- 
 mation points.' 
 
 'O he costs a great deal,' said Eunice; — 'and 
 when my father was sick, he had to come, and 
 come, and come. And mother's only just paid him 
 for that.' 
 
 ' She sits there all day with a scarlet finger,' 
 said Miss Jane; 'and don't send for the doctor 
 "because he costs so much;" and you sit here and 
 tell mo her eyes are not cloudy ! ' — 
 
 * No ma'am. Why no ! ' Eunice repeated in sur- 
 prise. Mother's eyes cloudy ? Of course not ! '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 181 
 
 ' Of course they are — ' said Miss Jane with de- 
 cision; 'and I am going straight down there this 
 very minute to see for myself. Pull that bellrope, 
 child — six times.' 
 
 ' Going down ? to see mother ? ' said Eunice in 
 amazed wonder. ' But it will make your head 
 ache, Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' Shut up, and ring that bell,' said Miss Jane. 
 ' What do you know about my head, I should like 
 to know ? '
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Not very much, Eunice confessed to herself, as she 
 watched Miss Jane's rapid rate of dressing and 
 heard her lively orders. The brisk little French 
 maid could hardly be quick enough in her motions 
 to suit her impatient mistress ; and Miss Jane's 
 ceaseless jabber of French and English fairly as- 
 tonished Eunice into silence. She sat and looked, 
 that was all. Then an idea occurred to her. 
 
 J Miss Jane,' she said, * I think I had better set 
 right off. Because you will go in the carriage, — 
 and it will take me longer to walk.' 
 
 4 Most true, Midget : it undoubtedly would; and 
 therefore you are to go in the carriage too.' 
 
 ' 0, am I ? ' said Eunice, flushing up. ' But I 
 can walk — ' she added. 
 
 ' No you can not,' said Miss Jan.. 'You know 
 
 perfectly well thai you have no feet. And /know 
 
 that you just waul to gel home first, and tell your 
 
 mother to clear the clouds out of her eyes.' 
 (182)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 183 
 
 But at that, after one astonished look, Eunice 
 burst into such a soft shout of merry laughter, 
 that further reply was needless. Miss Jane looked 
 at her but said nothing ; rather her own face grew 
 sober as Eunice laughed. Not displeased, the 
 child thought, glancing up : it was only one of 
 those sudden gravities which came over Miss Jane 
 sometimes. And presently Eunice forgot all 
 about it, in the interest of the dressing. Such 
 flounces and frills as came to light; such ribbands, 
 and laces, and folds, and nutings ! Eunice went 
 back to her first idea about the fairies, and sat 
 looking with a pleased smile upon her Jips: cer- 
 tainly this was a fairy toilet. And even the small 
 French maid herself, whose white cap and apron 
 alone were a study; short of her also being a fairy, 
 how could she possibly tell just where every pin 
 should go, and how every fold should hang ? How 
 could she toss up Miss Jane's hair into such a 
 mass of crinkles and waves and shining tresses? 
 Then what stockings went off — and what stock- 
 ings went on! What marvellous boots took the 
 place of the wonderful slippers. What gloves 
 were laid ready, what a parasol slipped out of its 
 case ! 
 
 The little face too gathered soberness, as Eunice
 
 184 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 looked; the eyes very intent, and rather wistful. 
 It was a wistful gaze that at length came back 
 and rested on the face of the owner of all thee • 
 wonders. Was this the Queen of Sheba come 
 to life again ? Miss Jane smiled at her. 
 
 4 Tired waiting ? ' she said. 
 
 4 no, ma'am ! ' 
 
 4 What then, Midget?' 
 
 And Eunice answered, simply, 
 
 4 Nothing, ma'am.' 
 
 4 Only you never knew before that * nothing' 
 had so much in it, did you child ? It is really one 
 of the most comprehensive words in the language,' 
 Miss Jane added reflectively. ' But I know what 
 is the matter, — you are jusi starved to death. 
 Ring that bell again, Midget.' 
 
 In vain Eunice protested that she was not starv- 
 ed at all, and could wait perfectly well until she 
 got home. Miss Jane would not listen to her: 
 and presently Soper brought in two little trays: 
 one with a bountiful supply of bread and milk for 
 Eunice, and the other with tea and toast for Miss 
 Jane herself. But such bread and milk! Only 
 such a dainty pitcher and plate were fit to hold it. 
 And as for the little blue bowl with its crinkly 
 gilt edges, Eunice felt as if fhaf, at least, must
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 185 
 
 have come straight from fairy laud. Over the rim 
 of her own teacup Miss Jaue watched the child, 
 well pleased;— watched till the last white drops 
 were poured from the little pitcher, and Eunice sat 
 with her hands folded in a very comforted way in- 
 deed. Then Miss Jane set down her own cup and 
 rose to her feet. 
 
 ' Now we are off,' she said. And off they were, — 
 with such rapid steps down the stairs, such a jump 
 into the carrriage; such dancing and prancing and 
 snorting and stamping, on the part of the black 
 horses, that Eunice was half bewildered. She be- 
 gan to feel as if she must be somebody else, and 
 not little Eunice Keith, sitting perched up there in 
 front of Miss Jane. And just as if everything had 
 to be different, behold, when they reached the main 
 road, the coachman took the other turn, and not 
 the one bv which Eunice had come. However, of 
 course he was only going home by a new way and 
 through a new set of fields; and so the little girl 
 settled herself with a most satisfied mind, to enjoy 
 whatever came. What a story she would have to 
 tell her mother ! how many questions to ask ! 
 
 Bnt as they whirled along, it began to seem to 
 Eunice as if they were not going towards home, 
 even by a new road, — not towards her end of the
 
 180 CROSS CORKERS. 
 
 village. She could not see the church steeple any- 
 where in the distance, and though there were green 
 meadows enough, and red bams enough, and 
 plenty of white houses, yet none of them looked 
 like the old friends she had lived among. 
 
 ' But then I never looked at them from a carriage 
 before,' the little girl reflected; • so maybe that's it. 
 I wonder if I don't look just as strange to them ? 
 I wonder if mother would know me?' 
 
 Smiling to herself at the thought, Eunice gazed 
 about her; deciding in her own mind where she 
 would go next day for strawberries, and still 
 watching for the steeple which nowhere appeared. 
 But perhaps they would turn again pretty soon. 
 
 They did turn, the next minute, wheeling sharply 
 around another corner; but now everything was 
 stranger than before: more and more unfamiliar, 
 and less and less like home; till Eunice was ready 
 once more to take up her old conceit of the fairies 
 whisking her up and whirling her off to nobody 
 knows where. The horses trotted as if for a wa- 
 ger; the wheels flew round; the coachman sat like 
 a statue and not like a man; the shadows on the 
 roadside danced themselves into all soils of shapes. 
 
 Could they be real horses, or a real coachman ? 
 could that Bhadow-hat like a tower, be really Miss
 
 CROSS CO KNEES. 187 
 
 Jane's ? and that bobbing-about dark spot be Eu- 
 nice herself? And now when at last the church 
 steeple came in sight, behold it was the wrong 
 
 one! 
 
 ' That is never ours, in the world,' thought Eu- 
 nice. She sat straight up and looked about her. 
 
 While she had been watching the shadows, the 
 black horses had gone over a good deal of ground ; 
 and now Eunice did not in the least know where 
 she was. No, this was not the right spire : it was 
 gray, and half as tall again as their own. And 
 these were not the village houses, now lifting tall 
 chimneys among the trees, and approachable only 
 through broad gateways and by smooth carriage 
 roads. Such slopes of green as lay beyond the 
 gateways Eunice had never seen ; nor such beds of 
 flowers as gleamed out here and there ; but when 
 the coachman turned in at one of those very gates, 
 and dashed along under the great trees towards one 
 of those very houses, Eunice sat back again and 
 looked at Miss Jane. 
 
 ' I think he must be running away,' she said. 
 'That isn't our house.' 
 
 ' 0, isn't it ! ' said Miss Jane. 
 
 'And this isn't our village,' Eunice went on. 
 ' And that isn't our church.'
 
 188 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Most true,' quoth Miss Jane. • You are an as- 
 tonishingly wise Midget, for your size. And I'll 
 tell you more yet, — nothing isn't anything ! — now 
 what do you think of that ? ' And Miss Jane 
 opened her eyes very wide, and gazed at the per- 
 plexed Eunice with a face of the utmost gravity. 
 
 The carriage flew round the sweep and stopped 
 at the great hall door; and without another word 
 Miss Jane jumped out and shut the carriage door 
 upon Eunice; ran up the steps — then ran down 
 again. 
 
 ' I am going to see somebody,' she said; 'and you 
 are to sit as still as five mice, because you never 
 could find your way home, if you tried. I'll be 
 back in a minute.' And up the steps she went 
 again, and was out of sight in a twinkling. 
 
 One minute slipped by, two minutes, three min- 
 utes, and she did not come. The horses pawed and 
 stamped and shook their glittering harness; but the 
 coachmen sat with his whip in air, as if he were 
 quite well used both to Miss Jane and to waiting. 
 Eunice nestled about, and looked at the strand- 
 house, and along the strange road; and nothing 
 kept her in place but Miss Jane's very true 
 reminder, that she could not find her way home 
 alone. At last steps and voices, — and < >n t came
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 139 
 
 the missing young lady as fast as she had gone in, 
 talking over her shoulder to a pleasant-faced 
 gentleman with white hair, who followed her more 
 at leisure and listened with an amused face. 
 
 ' One of my kind, hey ? ' he said. ' I should like 
 to be told how you know what kind that is? My 
 ' kind ' is pretty cross sometimes, Miss, I'd have 
 you to understand.' 
 
 Eunice looked and listened, and thought this 
 conversation was going to be very interesting 
 indeed; when behold, the minute Miss Jane had 
 her friend safe in the carriage, she began to jabber 
 away in some unknown tongue, and not a word 
 more could Eunice understand. Miss Jane talked, 
 and the old gentleman listened, — sometimes smil- 
 ing a little, or laughing softly to himself, or nod- 
 ding his head ; — sometimes frowning and looking 
 across at Eunice. 
 
 ' I daresay he thinks I've no business to be here,' 
 Eunice thought to herself. ' I wonder what 
 mother thinks has become of me ? dear ! I 
 do hope God will make her finger well very soon.' 
 
 The little girl's face grew very sober and sor- 
 rowful, and her thoughts flew quite away from 
 the lively chatter. She sat looking off at the 
 hedgerow.
 
 190 CROSS CORKERS. 
 
 4 Midget,' said Miss Jane suddenly, ' what are 
 you thinking of? ' Eunice started. 
 
 4 1 was thinking about mother, she said. 
 
 'Of course' — said Miss Jane drily: 'you are 
 always thinking of her. But what were you think- 
 ing. Now tell me exactly.' 
 
 •I don't believe I can — exactly — ma'am, Baid 
 Eunice; ' because I was thinking so many thing 
 
 ' Well just then, when you sighed,' said Miss 
 Jane. ' You know perfectly well that people never 
 ought to sigh ; — so why did you do it ? ' 
 
 ' Her finger aches so dreadfully,' said Eunice, 
 her eyes filling. 
 
 ' Then I'll tell you a secret,' said Miss Jane. ' 1 
 am going straight down there to pay her a visit 
 and cure her up. About ten minutes after she 
 sees me, she'll be all right again, and her finger 
 won't ache anv more.' 
 
 Eunice laughed; and then with instinctive po- 
 liteness she said, 
 
 ' I think mother will like to see you, Miss 
 Jane.' 
 
 'Of course she will,' said the young lady con- 
 fidently. ' How could she help it?' 
 
 'She don't know you, ma'am, — not very well, 
 Eunice corrected herself; ri-llcrting that Mrs.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 191 
 
 Keith had at least heard a good deal about Miss 
 Jane. ' Not so well as I do.' 
 
 ' No — hardly,' said Miss Jane. ' You and I have 
 been acquainted at least two weeks. But then 
 you are such a Methusaleh, you must have 
 known a great many people.' And with one 
 of her imposing nods, Miss Jane went off again 
 into her jabber of foreign tongues. Then she 
 came back to Eunice. 
 
 ' You see, Midget,' she began, ' I am taking my 
 uncle to see your mother. My uncle is a great 
 magician.' 
 
 ' A magician ! ' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Miss Jane. ' You believe in 
 magicians, I suppose, as they are in the Bible ? ' 
 
 • Yes ma'am,' said Eunice hesitating, — ' at least 
 they used to be.' 
 
 1 Used to be ! ' said Miss Jane. ' Do you mean 
 so say they are not there now ? I am afraid you 
 read nothing in the Bible but what you like best — 
 as some other people do.' 
 
 ' O I know they are in the Bible now,' said Eu- 
 nice; ' but I mean, they're not anywhere else.' 
 
 ' Then what will you do with my uncle the 
 magician ?' said Miss Jane, with such an extremely 
 sober face, that Eunice certainly did not in the
 
 192 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 least know what to do with lev. She looked from 
 one to the other. 
 
 ' But magicians were not good,' she said. And 
 another glance of the little girl's eyes towards the 
 kindly face of the old gentleman, seemed to say 
 that this ruled him quite out. Miss Jane smiled. 
 
 ' How did you know that, Midget ?' she inquired. 
 
 ' Because God told the people to have nothing to 
 do with them,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Well your mother has got to have something 
 to do with this one,' said Miss Jane composedly; — 
 4 because this magician is going to cure her finger.' 
 Eunice shook her head. 
 
 ' Mother won't let him,' she said. ' Not if he's a 
 magician. She'd rather wait for the doctor.' 
 
 ' O the doctor ! ' quoth Miss Jane, — ' that is what 
 you are hankering after. Why do you suppose I 
 didn't send that old poke to see your mother, in- 
 stead of running round the country side after a 
 magician?' Eunice laughed a little. 
 
 ' I don't know ma'am,' she said. ' I suppose 
 vou didn't think of it.' 
 
 'Stuff!' said Miss Jane: 'I think of every- 
 thing.' And leaning down so as to put her face 
 quite within the rim of the small white sunbonnet, 
 Miss Jane said impressively :
 
 CfiOSS COHNEJiS. 193 
 
 ' Because he costs so much ! ' 
 
 But the size of her eyes then, as she drew back 
 to her place, Eunice could never afterwards right- 
 ly describe. 
 
 The carriage rolled on; into the right village 
 this time, down the street and past the church and 
 the tailor's and the shoemaker's, — then out beyond 
 the houses; — and there at last was the little cot- 
 tage itself. It was all Eunice could do to sit still. 
 How long she had been away ! — and what would 
 her mother think, to see her come back in this 
 fashion ! And who could the old gentleman be ? 
 and what did Miss Jane mean ? She would have 
 liked to fly out of the carriage and into the house ; 
 tell everything and ask twenty questions, — before 
 Miss Jane got there ; — but Miss Jane was much 
 too wide awake a person to permit any such pro- 
 ceedings. In fact she got out of the carriage first 
 herself, laid hold of a corner of Eunice's apron; 
 and then, leaving the old gentleman all by him- 
 self, away they marched together into the house. 
 
 But once inside the room where her mother sat, 
 
 no apron could hold Eunice. In a second of time 
 
 it was untied, and left hanging from Miss Jane's 
 
 hand, and Eunice was in her mother's arms, half 
 
 smothering her with caresses. 
 13
 
 194 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 1 feel as if I'd been gone a whole week ! ' she 
 cried, — ' and oh mother, is your finger better?' 
 
 Miss Jane, standing still near the door, looked 
 on in silence, but with eyes that lost not the 
 smallest detail. With one glance she took in the 
 plain little room, so exquisitely neat and (to her 
 eyes) so utterly barren. She saw the quiet face 
 with its slight drawing of the forehead that told 
 of physical pain; — she saw how the face lit up at 
 the sight of Eunice; — until Miss Jane, who had 
 come on a search for ' cloudy eyes/ suddenly found 
 her own eyes " cloud up for rain," and stood look- 
 ing down, and trying to get control of herself. 
 Ah, people were rich who loved each other so ! 
 — Then a little hand slid into hers. 
 
 ' Come and see mother,' said Eunice. Mrs. Keith 
 had risen and was close at hand. l Mother, this is 
 Miss Jane. And she wanted to see you. She 
 wanted to see,' the little girl went on. watching 
 the very earnest way in which the two looked at 
 each other, — ' she wanted to see if your eyes were 
 cloudy ! — ' And Eunice put her hands to her face 
 and laughed. 
 
 ' Yes, and you got inside the door first, so as to 
 make sure,' said Miss Jane severely. ' Of course 
 they would not gloom on you. Now Midget, don't
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 195 
 
 presume to answer me, but go straight off and get 
 me a glass of water from the very coldest side of 
 the spring.' 
 
 Eunice laid her head caressingly against Mrs. 
 Keith. 
 
 ' I don't know which is the coldest,' she said. 
 
 ' Well go and find out,' said Miss Jane. ' I shall 
 not sit down till you are off.' 
 
 With sudden perception that Miss Jane wished 
 to see her alone, Mrs. Keith said, 
 
 4 Go, Eunice. If any side is the coldest, it must 
 be the side where the water comes in.' 
 
 ' To be sure ! ' cried Eunice, darting off for her 
 pitcher — ' where it comes bubbling up under the 
 rock. If there is any difference.' 
 
 ' You are to find out,' said Miss Jane. ' You 
 must dip some up on every side and drink it; and 
 then bring me whichever is most like ice.' 
 
 Eunice paused and looked at her doubtfully. 
 
 ' What are you going to do?' she said. 'Will 
 he come in ? ' — and she nodded towards the car- 
 riage. 
 
 ' Eunice, that is very impolite,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 ' You must not ask such questions.' 
 
 ' But she said he was a magician,' said the little 
 girl half under her breath.
 
 196 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' And so you are afraid to leave me in the Lord's 
 care ? ' said the mother smiling. ' My little daugh- 
 ter's faith is certainly very small.' 
 
 Eunice hung her head, and went off without 
 another word. But as to knowing which side of 
 the spring was the coldest, that was plainly im- 
 possible: the very water itself would not tell. 
 Eunice drank a little from one place and another 
 place, and could have turned the whole thing into 
 a frolic, had no magician been on hand; but now 
 decidiug that her mother must be right, she 
 filled the pitcher at the very head of the spring, 
 and ran back into the house. 
 
 By this time Miss Jane had taken a chair close 
 by Mrs. Keith, and was talking very fast and very 
 earnestly; and Eunice thought her mother looked 
 very much interested. But Miss Jane broke off 
 at once as Eunice came in. 
 
 ' Now here's that child again,' she said. 
 
 ' But you wanted some water, ma'am,' said Eu- 
 nice, rather aggrieved. 
 
 ' I wanted a drink,' said Miss Jane, ' and you 
 seem to think I wanted a bath. What am I to do 
 with this great pitcher, pray?' 
 
 '0 I forgot!' cri.-d Eunice. She set down her 
 pitcher and ran to fetch the white mug. « Please
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 107 
 
 excuse me, Miss Jane, — I was very stupid.' 
 
 * Very stupid indeed,' said Miss Jane, sipping 
 the clear cold water ; ' but you are a good little 
 Midget, nevertheless. Now run off and play. 
 The water's delicious, but I don't wish any more.' 
 
 But Eunice stood still. 
 
 ' I don't want to play,' she said. ' I want to see 
 mother.' 
 
 ' Do see her then,' said Miss Jane. ' Take a 
 good look, and go.' 
 
 Eunice eyed her suspiciously. 
 
 ' That isn't seeing her,' she said. 
 
 ' My patience!' said Miss Jane. 'Well I want 
 to see her too — so there.' 
 
 4 1 wont talk, ma'am,' said Eunice, her lip begin- 
 ning to tremble. ' I wont say a word. I'll just 
 listen.' 
 
 ' Precisely — ' said Miss Jane, in her dry tone. 
 
 Eunice looked from one to the other. Mrs. 
 Keith smiled, and drew the child into her arms. 
 
 ' You will get into trouble on any by-ways,' she 
 said to Miss Jane. ' Eunice is a great literalist. 
 Listen, love. This gentleman who has been so very 
 kind as to come, and whom Miss Jane was so very 
 kind as to bring, he thinks he can cure my hand 
 in a very little while.'
 
 198 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Well — I'd like to see him do it,' said Eunice, 
 moving her head lovingly on her mother's neck. 
 
 ' But I do not wish that you should. It is much 
 better that you should not.' 
 
 ' Will he hurt you?' cried Eunice looking up 
 with startled eyes. ' Are you afraid he will hurt 
 you?' 
 
 ' He must, I think, to cure me; but I am not 
 afraid.' 
 
 1 But oh let me stay ! ' cried Eunice, her breast 
 heaving. ' f will be ever so good, — I won't say a 
 word. I'll just stand here and let you lean back 
 upon me. And I'm .afraid of him/ she whispered. 
 ' He looks very nice, but she called him a magician.' 
 
 ' Because the Lord has given him such skill,' 
 said Mrs. Keith, kissing the little face that lay on 
 ner shoulder. ' Go, darling, and let the sparrows 
 teach you their lesson.' 
 
 ' Ah, no ! ' Eunice pleaded. ' Let me stay with 
 you, mother ! ' 
 
 4 No, love, you must go at once.' 
 
 Eunice went instantly then, though her hands 
 covered her face before she reached the door; but 
 she said not another word. Miss Jane looked 
 after her. 
 
 ' Poor little Midgel !' she said. 4 But it is best
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 199 
 
 so ; because the lancing may be a sharp thing, and 
 there's no use in her breaking her heart befoie the 
 time comes.' — But Miss Jane moved towards the 
 door rather slowly, considering what a hurry she 
 was in. At the door she stopped and turned 
 round. 
 
 ' What is the lesson the sparrows teach ? ' she 
 said. Mrs. Keith looked in her turn. Were the 
 old ever-new, time-worn, words really unknown to 
 this gay young lady ? She gave them very simply, 
 adding none of her own. 
 
 4 " Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing ? and 
 one of them shall not fall on the ground without 
 your Father. But the very hairs of your head are 
 all numbered. Fear ye not, therefore, ye are of 
 more value than many sparrows." ' 
 
 4 Will the sparrows teach it to everybody ? ' said 
 Miss Jane in her sudden way. 
 
 ' To everybody who will hear.' 
 
 4 But that promise is to the children.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mrs. Keith, ' and the children are 
 those who listen. "My sheep hear my voice."' 
 
 Miss Jane turned again and went off to the 
 carriage.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 In that minute of time, while the old gentleman 
 got out of the carriage and followed Miss Jane into 
 the house, Eunice who had been on the watch, flew 
 back to her mother's side. 
 
 ' Do you think he's a magician? 7 she whispered 
 breathlessly. 
 
 ' Certainly not. He is only a kind doctor,' said 
 .Mrs. Keith. ' Go and pray that the Lord may let 
 him cure my hand.' 
 
 If you want to really comfort people, give them 
 something to do. Eunice went off with a lighten- 
 ed heart to her old place under the oak tree, among 
 the robins. 
 
 4 1 'spose they'll do just as well as sparrows, for 
 a message,' she thought, looking about her. ' In 
 one place it says "fowls of the air" — and I'm 
 sure that might mean robins. But in that verse 
 it's talking about daily bread.' The sweet words 
 
 came clearly to mind, she had read them so often. 
 (2(xn
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 201 
 
 "Which neither sow nor reap, which neither 
 have storehouse nor barn, yet your heavenly 
 Father feedeth them." 
 
 Eunice drew a long sigh of pleasure. 
 
 4 How pretty it is ! ' she said. ' I think it's a 
 great deal nicer not to have a storehouse. At 
 least for the birds — ' she went on, correcting her- 
 self. ' I guess I'd like one pretty well. I'd like a 
 barn too, — a barn's so pretty. If we had three 
 barns,' said Eunice reflectively, ' one full of wheat, 
 and one full of hay, and one full of corn, I don't 
 suppose we'd ever want anything more. Davy 
 would take some wheat to the mill whenever 
 we wanted a barrel of flour — a whole barrel ! — 
 and then we'd have fresh bread every day. And 
 part of the corn would make sweet johnny cakes, 
 for a change ; and the rest would feed the chickens. 
 For we should have to keep chickens, you know, if 
 we had a barn full of corn. And the hay would 
 be for our cow — for of course we must have a 
 cow — and a little calf. And then we'd have butter 
 plenty, for our cow's milk would be all cream.' 
 
 Hopping about on the green grass, waiting pa- 
 tiently for the little ' swish ! ' which told them 
 where to dart for an earthworm, two robins watch- 
 ed her with their bright eyes. " That thou givest
 
 202 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 them, they gather " — so ran their tender little mes- 
 sage ; hut Eunice did not heed it. For the moment 
 she had quite forgotten whose child she was, and 
 was busy with that very unwise thing — wishing 
 for what the Lord had not given. 
 
 ' Mother would wear new dresses then,' she 
 thought; ' and she would be just as fat and strong 
 as could be.' 
 
 And here Eunice suddenly remembered what 
 she had been sent out to do, — even to pray that 
 the strange doctor might be allowed to do some- 
 thing towards that being ' fat and strong ' of 
 which she had been dreaming. For with the 
 quieting of her fear about the magician, the bur- 
 den had quite rolled off her little heart, Of the 
 doctor, Eunice was not afraid. She thought it 
 was very nice he had come. And so when she 
 slid down from her rock seat to the soft moss at 
 its side, the childish prayer was much more praise 
 than petition. 
 
 If Eunice had known that her mother was even 
 then lying back in a dead faint, I am afraid (so 
 short sighted are we) that her thankfulness would 
 have been very much cut down, and yet it was 
 only a token that the work was done. For though 
 .Mrs. Keith's strength gave way at first before the
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 203 
 
 doctor's sharp remedies, yet relief from pain fol- 
 lowed immediately ; and the faintness passed into 
 a refreshing sleep. 
 
 ' That's the very best thing she can do,' said the 
 kind old doctor, looking on. 'I'll warrant she's 
 had little enough rest for a week past. But she 
 must have nourishing food too, and plenty of it. 
 You must see that she does, Jane.' 
 
 « I can send her things enough, — that is easy,' 
 said Miss Jane ; knitting her brows as if thinking 
 over something else that was hard. 'But she 
 can't be left alone here with that child.' 
 
 ' After tonight' 
 
 ' Well, for tonight—' said Miss Jane. * Who'll 
 stay here tonight ? ' 
 
 ' You, I should imagine,' said the old doctor 
 drawing on his gloves. 'Yes, it would be well 
 you should be here tonight; because she ought to 
 sleep right through, without being disturbed.' 
 
 1 But I know nothing about sick people,' said 
 Miss Jane, looking a good deal disturbed herself. 
 
 1 Learn.' 
 
 ' Suppose she faints away again ? ' 
 
 1 She won't. And you won't,' added the old 
 doctor quizzically. 
 
 Miss Jane stood thinking.
 
 204 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' 1 shall want a host of things/ she said. 
 
 ' Go and get them.' 
 
 ' And lose every scrap of patience I have in the 
 world, at the hands of Ada and Julia/ 
 
 1 Make a list then, and I'll get them — or order 
 them/ said the old doctor. ' And be quick, girl. 
 Your charitable outbreaks take time, I can tell 
 you. And the needless minutes I want.' 
 
 So it fell out, that Eunice, beginning to wonder 
 why she was not called, suddenly heard the car- 
 riage drive off, and whirl along down the road again. 
 She thought it was rather queer that Miss Jane 
 should go without a word to her ; but in the de- 
 light that there was no one now to forbid her com- 
 ing in, she easily forgave that. 
 
 ' It's just one of her ways, I s'pose/ thought the 
 little girl to herself. ' Maybe her head aches 
 again.' — And joyously now she ran back to the 
 house, breaking forth into her favorite song of 
 1 Mother and I.' 
 
 But what was her astonishment as she came 
 bounding up to the door, to see Miss Jane come 
 out, and mysteriously closing the door behind her 
 lay her finger upon her lips. 
 
 k Softly ! ' she said. ' Your mother has gone to 
 sleep.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 205 
 
 ' To sleep ! ' cried Eunice aghast. ' In the mid- 
 dle of the day ! then she's very sick.' 
 
 4 Stuff and nonsense ! ' said Miss Jane, catching 
 hold of her, as Eunice was rushing by. ' She is 
 just getting well as fast as she can. Mayn't peo- 
 ple sleep in the day when they can't at night, I 
 wonder ? ' 
 
 Eunice stood still, looking up at her. And I 
 suppose something in the little face, which had 
 suddenly grown pale, must have gone to Miss 
 Jane's heart; for she stooped down till her own 
 face was at the same level, and kissed the child. 
 
 ' I am telling you the truth,' she said, — ' why 
 don't you believe me ? The pain is so much bet- 
 ter that she has gone fast asleep, and the doctor 
 said that was just the very best thing she could 
 do.' 
 
 The little girl drew a long sigh of relief. 
 
 ' I'm glad,' she said. ' But you frightened me, 
 Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' Frightened you ? ' said Miss Jane, giving her a 
 little shake, — ' I can't see what business you had 
 to be frightened. 1 thought you were sent out 
 here expressly to study the sparrows.' 
 
 Eunice laid a small hand on the young lady's 
 shoulder, looking wistfully into her face.
 
 200 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' 0, do you know about the sparrows ? ' she said. 
 4 1 thought maybe you didn't, Miss Jane.' 
 
 But at that Miss Jane jumped up again. 
 
 ' And I think, you and I had better go into the 
 house,' she said. ' We have a great deal to do. I 
 shall faint away myself, if I don't have my lunch 
 presently.' 
 
 ' ! — ' cried Eunice, her face all white again, 
 ' did mother faint ? ' 
 
 Miss Jane eyed her gravely. 
 
 ' Midget,' she said, ' you should always keep 
 exactly to facts. I said I should faint if I didn't 
 have my lunch, — and you immediately ask me if 
 your mother did. I suppose you think that's the 
 only thing in creation that matters.' 
 
 ' But did she, ma'am ? ' insisted the little girl 
 earnestly. 
 
 'I daresay she has — loads of times,' said Miss 
 Jane. ' You know she has done everything, of 
 every sort, that anybody ever could possibly do. 
 But /haven't; and if I begin, I shall make a time 
 of it, I can tell you, and give you no end of both- 
 er. So come right in and give me my lunch this 
 minute.' 
 
 Keeping her hand on the little girl's shoulder 
 Miss Jane marched her in; and then through tho
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 207 
 
 small sitting room to the door of the bedroom. 
 Then putting one hand over Eunice's mouth, with 
 the other she softly opened the door, and shewed 
 her Mrs. Keith lying on the bed in the deepest, 
 quietest sleep. Then Miss Jane closed the door 
 again and drew Eunice away. 
 
 'There — ' she said. 'Now that you see for 
 yourself that my uncle the magician hasn't con- 
 jured her away, I suppose you will be kind 
 enough to give me something to eat.' 
 
 ' I'll try, ma'am/ said Eunice, drawing a deep 
 sigh. ' But she looks so pale ! ' she said, stopping 
 short. 
 
 ' Wake her up, and she'll look paler yet,' said 
 Miss Jane. 'How should she look, with such a 
 hand as she has had, pray ? ' 
 
 Eunice sighed again, brushed away two or three 
 stray tears that somehow came when they were 
 not wanted; and then mustering all her resolution, 
 straightened herself up and began to set the table. 
 
 Miss Jane, resting in a chair by the window, 
 looked on. It was quite a study. 
 
 First of all, as she could not go into the next 
 room to put it away, Eunice hung her sunbonnet 
 on the furthest off chair; laid her apron there too; 
 and then opening another door she went out into
 
 208 C/iOSS CORNERS. 
 
 the back porch, and Miss Jane heard the splash- 
 ing of water, as if the little hands were getting a 
 very big bath indeed. Then Eunice came in, tied 
 on her apron again, and went to work. She 
 brought out a fresh tablecloth, very white and 
 smooth if it was not very line ; set on the few plain 
 dishes, — then stood thinking. 
 
 ' I wonder what mother will have ? ' she said. 
 
 ' Your mother had a cup of grand beef juice, 
 which the magician took out of his pocket, before 
 she went to sleep,' said Miss Jane; ' and there is 
 more ready for her as soon as she wakes up. The 
 question is what / shall have. I believe you don't 
 care if I starve to death.' 
 
 Eunice came a step nearer, and again hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 ' You said you wanted lunch, ma'am,' she said. 
 'And we don't ever have lunch, — and I don't know 
 what to get.' 
 
 ' Good patience ! ' quoth Miss Jane, — ' call it 
 dinner, child, if you like. Or tea. It will be tea- 
 time before it is ready. Give me something to eat, 
 under any name.' 
 
 Eunice dived into her closet again. 
 
 'There's two of your eggs, Miss Jane,' she said, 
 putting her head out; ' and there's a piece of bread
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 209 
 
 — and — O yec, there is some tea. Will you have a 
 cup of tea, ina'am ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I will,' said the young lady. How 
 should I have tea without tea, I should like to 
 know ? Or lunch either, for that matter.' 
 
 Eunice darted out — quite out of the house this 
 time, — coming back directly with her kettle full 
 of fresh water straight from the spring. The chip 
 basket, happily, was already filled; and the fire 
 was made, and the kettle swung on the crane, 
 before Miss Jane fairly knew what all this run- 
 ning about meant. 
 
 ' Dear me,' she said, ' so all that must be done 
 first. Of course, — kettles are not always boiling, 
 I suppose. Why Midget, you've turned into a fire- 
 fly. O how pretty ! ' — for the frisky little flames 
 were curling and darting above the small black 
 kettle in the liveliest way. 'I never saw any- 
 thing so pretty in all my life.' She drew her chair 
 up in front of the clean-swept hearth and gazed 
 into the fire. Eunice too, having finished her 
 preparations, drew np the little stool and sat down 
 in the opposite corner ; watching the gay blaze with 
 eyes as intent as the older ones. 
 
 1 Mother and I sit here very often, after it gets 
 14
 
 210 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 too dark to sew,' she said. ' Sometimes we don't 
 light the candle at all till after tea.' 
 
 ' Sit and talk ? ' — Eunice nodded. 
 
 ' We haven't done it so very much just lately/ 
 she said. ' Because it's been warm weather. Not 
 since Sunday before last, I think- — when it rained 
 and blew.' 
 
 • Well it certainly did that,' said Miss Jane. ' And 
 you sat here and talked ? What did you talk about ? ' 
 
 ' 0, about the rain and the wind in the Bible,' 
 said Eunice; 'and how at first there wasn't any 
 rain; and all that, you know, Miss Jane.' Eunice 
 bent forward to throw some more chips into the 
 fire, and Miss Jane watched her curiously. No, 
 she herself did not ' know ' all these things, — and 
 what a queer life those people must live who did. 
 Eunice talked as easily and frankly of Bible words 
 and Bible history, as if it had all been in the 
 morning paper. With a degree of assurance, too, 
 which morning papers never give. 
 
 But now the little kettle began to sing, and then 
 to sputter, and then to spurt out hot drops upon 
 the fire ; and Eunice brought a neat holder and lifted 
 it off the crane. Then she scalded the teapot. 
 Then sli<" sped away into the closet again, and 
 fetched out an <>ld, old teacaddy, the like of which
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 211 
 
 Miss Jane had never seen, and which made her 
 eyes dance. Such a caddy, in such a house ! 
 
 Alas, it soon appeared that there was not much 
 in it. Eunice patiently shook out the crisp-curled 
 leaves, till she had about twice as much as her 
 mother used (she did not like to put in so very lit- 
 tle for Miss Jane) and thought that would do very 
 nicely. But was there enough left for her mother's 
 tea and breakfast ? She stood thinking, teapot in 
 hand. 
 
 'Well, child, what makes you stop ?' said Miss 
 Jane. ' Put in the tea and have done.' 
 
 ' I've put it in, ma'am,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Put it in ? ' said Miss Jane, — ' why you've only 
 looked into the pot. Here — ' and catching the 
 little caddy from the child's hand, Miss Jane reck- 
 lessly poured out every bit there was there. Eu- 
 nice stood aghast. 
 
 ' That's all v ight,' said Miss Jane nodding at her 
 as she gave the caddy back. ' I don't want to 
 drink teapot, child. Now make the tea;' — which 
 Eunice did without another word. In stunned 
 silence she brought out the saucepan for the eggs, 
 boiled them to a second by Miss Jane's watch; set 
 a chair for the guest: and meekly inquired if she 
 wanted any more water in the teapot.
 
 212 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 To be sure I do,' said Miss Jane laughing, — ' I 
 want cups and cups. But only one cup at a time, 
 you know. Poor little Midget ! — I've scared you 
 out of all your five wits. Did you never see your 
 caddy empty before, child ? Never mind, I'll fill 
 it up again.' 
 
 And with that Miss Jane placed herself at the 
 little table; and though she made a wry face when 
 she was told there was no butter, yet being really 
 very hungry she found (as people in such circum- 
 stances generally do) that she could eat her bread 
 without it.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Variety is a wonderful spice. Miss Jane had eaten 
 luncheons of every description of excellence and 
 profusion; but bread and tea, without either milk 
 or butter, was something new. At home she 
 would not have looked at it ; — but here, with the 
 quaint little figure across the table, and the severe- 
 ly plain little room, it was all in keeping. And 
 Miss Jane was great on having things match. Eu- 
 nice too enjoyed her dry bread (without the tea) 
 being in an altogether comforted and comfortable 
 state of mind. For Mrs. Keith had been awake ; 
 and being ordered by Miss Jane to lie still, had 
 gone peacefully to sleep again ; first assuring Eu- 
 nice that she felt a great deal better. And Eunice 
 never had to discount her mothers words. So the 
 two faces were very bright, and Miss Jane kept 
 saying such funny things, that Eunice could do 
 nothing but laugh and wonder. 
 
 But when they had devoured the last crumb of 
 
 (213)
 
 214 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 bread, and she had washed the dishes and put 
 them away, then Eunice began to wonder still 
 more about something else. She had been in to 
 give her mother another cup of the strong broth, 
 and came back expecting to find Miss Jane all 
 ready to go; but instead of that, .Miss Jane sat 
 gazing into the ashes of the little fire as if she 
 never meant to move again. Stranger still, she 
 had taken off her small round hat and hung it on 
 a chair by Eunice's sunbonnet. And now indeed 
 it ivas getting late, and towards real teatime, sure 
 enough. 
 
 Eunice went softly about, brushing up a crumb 
 or two, pulling the curtains and table cover into 
 more exact order; then took her basket and went 
 off for chips, and brought in a fresh pail of water; 
 and still Miss Jane sat looking into the ashes. So, 
 seeing no better might be, after one more peep into 
 the next room, Eunice came back to her own little 
 bench in the corner, and gazed into the ashes too. 
 
 But ashes are different, at different times of 
 one's life; and Eunice saw such funny things in 
 them, from her point of view, thai she sat smiling 
 to herself; and once would have laughed out, if 
 she had not in a great hurry smothered her mouth 
 with both hands.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 215 
 
 ' What is the matter ? ' said Miss Jane suddenly 
 turning to her. 
 
 Eunice blushed, and said, 
 
 4 Nothing, ma'am.' 
 
 4 Now Midget,' said Miss Jane gravely, ' when I 
 say What is the matter, I do not mean to ask 
 whether you have sprained your ankle within the 
 last five minutes, — nor whether you suppose the 
 house is on fire: — but what you are laughing 
 about.' 
 
 ' I was only telling Davy, Miss Jane,' said the 
 little girl, a good deal abashed. 
 
 4 Telling him what ? ' 
 
 ' — about all the queer things today,' said 
 Eunice. 
 
 'Well you are one of them,' said Miss Jane. 
 ' And instead of sitting there looking at something 
 you can't see, you had much better hunt up that 
 verse in the Bible you were talking so fast about. 
 We'll find out whether you were right. How you 
 got your dinner, you know.' 
 
 ' I don't think it says dinner exactly,' said Eunice, 
 jumping up to fetch the big book. ' It's about 
 having any sort of your own way, Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' Yes, and I like every sort of my own way,' de- 
 clared Miss Jane. ' So there.'
 
 216 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 4 yes, so do I ! ' said Eunice. ' 1 think it's 
 lovely. — At first,' she added doubtfully. Miss Jane 
 laughed. 
 
 ' Methusaleh is too young for yon,' she said. 
 4 You must have known Adam.' 
 
 4 Well mother says Methusaleh did know him,' 
 said Eunice looking up with her serious face. 
 
 4 Good patience ! ' exclaimed Miss Jane. 4 Can't 
 one set foot anywhere on Bible ground without 
 being tripped up ? You attend to your business, 
 and shew me why my own way isn't good. / 
 think it is firstrate. Always.' 
 
 Eunice shook her head. 
 
 'Mother says it isn't good — ever,' she said. ' I 
 can shew you, Miss Jane. Mother put the marks 
 in for me just the other day; about the people who 
 would have their own way, and how they liked it. 
 There was Eve, to begin.' 
 
 ' Eve ! ' said Miss Jane, opening her eyes. 4 That 
 is certainly 4 to begin.' What about Eve, you 
 small great grandchild ? ' 
 
 ' She liked her way best,' said Eunice, trying hard 
 to remember just what. Mrs. Keith had said. "She 
 wanted something God had not given her. She 
 didn't believe he knew.' 
 
 4 And so you think she got her own dinner — or
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 217 
 
 rather her dessert,' said Miss Jane. ' Eve, of all 
 things ! I suppose Esau is the next hungry 
 creature that comes along ? you need not look 
 so astonished. I do know a few Bible names — if 
 1 could get a chance to mention them.' 
 
 * Well Esau is the next one,' said Eunice, turning 
 over the leaves. * He gave the whole of his birth- 
 right for just one meal.' 
 
 ' What harm ? It was his own,' said Miss Jane. 
 
 ' Mother says,' answered Eunice, ' that it was 
 giving away something the Lord had given him, 
 for something the Lord had not' 
 
 ' Now Midget,' said Miss Jane severely, 'you know 
 that will never do. Esau was near dying of hun- 
 ger — -just as I was a while ago. Would you have 
 let him starve ? ' 
 
 ' But he didn't wait — ' said the little girl. 
 
 ' Wait? ' cried Miss Jane. ' I hate waiting ! 
 What should he wait for ? ' 
 
 • For God — mother says,' Eunice answered sim- 
 ply. ' Mother taught me such beautiful words 
 about that. "Blessed are all they that wait for 
 him," — and " The Lord is good to the soul that 
 waiteth for him." And, "They shall not be 
 ashamed that wait for me." All those verses, you 
 know, Miss Jane.'
 
 218 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' How should I know ? ' 
 
 ' I thought perhaps your mother taught you,' 
 Eunice ventured doubtfully. 
 
 • Midget, I have lived all ray life at boarding 
 school. My mother died when I was six years 
 old.' 
 
 ' Did she ? poor Miss Jane ! ' — Eunice left her 
 little bench and came and stood by her friend's 
 side. ' But wasn't she a Christian, ma'am ? ' she 
 added, with a child's fearless ignorance of ques- 
 tions. 
 
 ' Yes indeed ! ' 
 
 ' O then you'll see her again pretty soon,' said 
 the little girl brightly, much comforted. ' Because 
 the Bible says, " Them that sleep in Jesus, will 
 God bring with him." " And it shall be said in 
 that day," Eunice went on, joining texts as she 
 had heard her mother do, — " It shall be said in 
 that day, Lo, this is our God: we have waited for 
 him." Mother says waiting for God, is just like 
 resting on something that can never, never give 
 way.' 
 There was a long silence. 
 
 ' Midget,' said Miss Jane suddenly, ' how in the 
 world can you stow away so many great words in 
 your small head ? '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 219 
 
 ' I read 'em to mother so often,' said Eunice, 
 with a contented folding of her hands. ' You 
 see mother has to sew every minute, when she 
 can get w T ork. And so of course she can't read 
 much. I read to her. And then when it gets too 
 dark to see, 1 repeat things to her, — and she tells 
 things to me. 
 
 ' Bible things do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' yes,' said Eunice, — ' all sorts of things. But 
 Bible things most. She likes them best. I guess 
 they rest her.' 
 
 At this moment a shadow crossed the window, 
 and Eunice sprang up and ran to the door to way- 
 lay David and tell him all the wonderful things 
 that had come to pass. And so eager was the talk, 
 that she never heard Miss Jane come out behind 
 her; nor knew she was there, until she saw David 
 straighten up and make his bow. Then Eunice 
 turned round. 
 
 'This is Davy, Miss Jane,' she said. 'And 
 Davy, Miss Jane has been such a help ! ' 
 
 'Stuff!' said Miss Jane promptly. 'I haven't 
 been a bit of help. It was all my uncle the magi- 
 cian. But I am very glad to see David, because he 
 can be useful. I want you to come and stay here 
 tomorrow, David, all day; to see that Mrs. Keith
 
 220 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 does not tire herself looking after this child. Will 
 you ? ' 
 
 4 O Davy, say yes ! ' cried Eunice. But David 
 shook his head. 
 
 'I wish I could,' he said: 'I'd like no better. 
 But I can't, ma'am, — not possibly.' 
 
 1 Why not?' 
 
 ' Because, ma'am, I must be in farmer Jacobs' 
 field to turn hay. ' 
 
 ' What will he pay you for it?' 
 
 'Fifty cents.' 
 
 ' Well see,' said Miss Jane, — ' you shall have 
 three times that if you will stay here.' 
 
 Little Eunice looked up so eagerly, that David 
 smiled at her; though hisown cheek had flushed too. 
 
 ' I can't do it, ma'am,' he repeated. ' I'm very 
 sorry — bnt Mr. Jacobs counts on seeing me in his 
 hay field at five o'clock tomorrow morning.' 
 
 'Five o'clock!' said Miss Jane; — 'and fifty 
 cents! And you won't disappoint him for thrice 
 the money. Well, I suppose that is part of the 
 stu If good ministers are made of. Can't you Bend 
 him word ? ' 
 
 ' Too late, ma'am. And there's no other boy in 
 town he can get,' David added with a smile, seeing 
 a further question in Miss June's eyes.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 221 
 
 4 Not any other b«y like Davy, you know,' little 
 Eunice explained, with an emphasis that made 
 David redden once more. 
 
 'I believe that/ said Miss Jane. 'Have you 
 been up since five o'clock today ? ' 
 
 ' At work since five, David answered. ' Up since 
 four.' 
 
 ' Dinner in the field ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ma'am.' 
 
 ' Well why in the world,' broke forth Miss Jane, 
 ' do you do such a fearful day's work for so little 
 
 pay?' 
 
 4 1 take what I can get,' the boy answered simply. 
 ' You know, ma'am,' he added with a bright smile: 
 ' " That thou givest them, they gather." 
 
 Now Miss Jane did not know, and had maybe 
 never heard the words in all her life ; yet she was 
 sure on the instant where they came from and 
 what David meant. So he was another ! What a 
 boy this would be, to take care of her horse, and fol- 
 low her about in her rides over the country ! 
 
 ' Are you in a hurry ? ' 
 
 ' No ma'am.' 
 
 ' Then come in and let me talk to you.' 
 
 David followed her in, but Eunice was very un- 
 easy over this arrangement.
 
 -222 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' You rausn't keep him long,' she said, with a 
 wise shake of the head. ' Because if" you do, he'll 
 lose his supper. They wou't wait a minute for him 
 at Mrs. Crusty 's.' 
 
 ' He won't lose it tonight,' said Miss Jane confi- 
 dently. And then with one of her mysterious 
 nods, she stooped down by Eunice and whispered, 
 
 'We'll give it to him here!' — With which piece 
 of news Eunice was so much delighted, that the 
 little difficulty of there being no ' supper ' in the 
 house, did not trouble her at all. 
 
 ' I dare say when mother wakes up, she'll give 
 me some money,' thought the little girl. ' And then 
 Davy would go and help me get it. Because I 
 suppose we'd want two loaves of bread, and maybe a 
 whole quart of milk, and some tea.'
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 Eunice had just settled herself comfortably on 
 her little bench to listen to this new conversation, 
 which also promised to be interesting, when there 
 came a knock at the door; and there to be sure 
 was Miss Jane's footman, with a big basket on his 
 arm, which Eunice was at once set to unpack. And 
 it was such an astonishing basket, and it was such 
 a bewildering piece of work to empty it and put 
 the things away, that Eunice presently forgot 
 everything else. She did not hear a word of all 
 that Miss Jane said to David; she never knew 
 when David went out for fresh water, and made up 
 the fire and slung on the kettle again. Not a bit 
 of it all. Such a handful as that basket did not 
 come every day; and Eunice made the most of it. 
 Looking at everything before she took it out, turn- 
 ing it in her hand, then putting it in place — then 
 standing back to look again. With gestures, and 
 
 exclamations, and little laughs of pleasure, that 
 
 (223)
 
 224 CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 would have done anybody's heart good to see. 
 Pink spots grew and deepened in her cheeks; and 
 by and by pleasure came to be such a serious 
 thing, that the child looked as if she had the 
 weight of the nation on her shoulders. Important, 
 busy, and as grc* ve as a ludtre ; oniy now and then — 
 as she said afterwards, 'she had to laugh.' 
 
 For here were eggs to be stowed away where 
 they should not roll, — ' real eggs' — as Eunice 
 remarked to herself with one of her airy gestures. 
 There was a large pat of butter to be put in a cool 
 place; there was brown bread and white bread to 
 go in the tin box. There was a beefsteak to fill one 
 dish, and a piece of cold roastbeef for the other. 
 With sugar and tea, a bottle of milk and a loaf of 
 cake ; and — yes, there could be no doubt of it — a 
 real custard pie hid away between two tin pans. 
 But when this point was reached; and taking out 
 the pans she found that they had rested on a bed 
 of sweet potatoes; — then indeed Eunice laughed. 
 Laughed with such a ring of childish pleasure and 
 surprise that the sound came round the closet door, 
 and the other two stopped talking and turned to 
 listen. 
 
 That was a crisis. Eunice left the potatoes in 
 the basket, and flew out of the closet and into her
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 225 
 
 mother's room ; where fortunately she found Mrs. 
 Keith awake, and looking much refreshed by her 
 long sleep. 
 
 Eunice poured out her wonderful story of the 
 closet; her eyes growing wet and her lips trem- 
 bling before she got through. 
 
 ' O mother,' she cried, ' it makes me want to beg 
 God's pardon a great, great many times ! ' 
 
 " A fair day seemeth to be all made of faith and 
 patience.'' — 
 
 The wise old words came to Mrs. Keith's mind 
 as Eunice spoke; but she did not give her child 
 any lessons of grown-up experience just then. 
 She drew Eunice close into her arms, saying 
 only, 
 
 ' Yes, love. Trust the Lord alivays.' 
 
 ' I cannot imagine, Midget,' said Miss Jane com- 
 ing in at this moment, ' what you mean by rush- 
 ing in here to wake your mother up, when I set 
 you to unpack that basket.' 
 
 'I have unpacked it,' — said Eunice, laying the 
 other cheek against her mother's. ' And mother 
 was awake, Miss Jane.' 
 
 'Then let her go right to sleep again, and do 
 you go out and get supper. It would take six fire- 
 flies to keep track of you. David is famished after 
 lfi
 
 226 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 his day's work, and the kettle is boiling itself to 
 death, and you are here lying in bed.' 
 
 ' No, I wasn't in,' said Eunice jumping down 
 with a laugh; 'I was only on, Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' Be off then, at once,' said Miss Jane, 'and teach 
 David how to cook his supper. I don't believe he 
 knows a bit about it.' 
 
 4 yes he does. Davy can cook beautifully,'' said 
 Eunice, running away. ' But what shall I cook, 
 Miss Jane ? ' she said, stopping short at the door. 
 
 4 What have you got ? ' 
 
 Nothing loth, Eunice went over the treasure- 
 list again, checking it off on her fingers. And 
 Miss Jane listened gravely; watching the eager 
 little face, and rather wondering within herself 
 that she had never found out before how sweet it 
 is to make even one child happy. 
 
 ' Your mother,' she said then, • requires beef- 
 steak. So do I. If there is any left after we have 
 enough, you and David can have it.' 
 
 ' But must I cook it all ? ' said the little girl, her 
 face growing grave with the momentous question. 
 
 'All ? yes of course. What is the child think- 
 ing of? All ? Why, is there more than one ? ' 
 
 More than one ! — more than a whole beef- 
 steak !
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 227 
 
 ' And plenty of sweet potatoes, mind,' Miss 
 Jane added, watching her. Now ' plenty ' and 
 ' sweet potatoes ' had never before met, even in 
 Eunice Keith's imagination. She vanished with- 
 out another word. 
 
 For Miss Jane, that is ; — but surely her tongue 
 ran fast enough to David. 
 
 ' And Davy, she concluded, ' do you suppose 
 she will have the custard pie too ? ' 
 
 Miss Jane meanwhile stepped lightly about the 
 little bedroom, with a show of setting things to 
 rights, but really doing some quite hard thinking. 
 She lost not an expression of Mrs. Keith's face; 
 she saw the eyes flush as they followed Eunice ; 
 she saw them look up with such evident sight, 
 that now Miss Jane stood still and looked at her. 
 
 ' Midget is a splendid child,' she said then. The 
 mother answered yes. 
 
 ' How did you ever make her such a wise, pa- 
 tient little thing ? ' Mrs. Keith smiled. 
 
 ' I do not think Eunice is particidarly patient,' 
 she said. 
 
 ' Twice as patient as I am — three times,' said the 
 young lady. ' See how she will wait for her din- 
 ner, or her breakfast, — and then take what she 
 can get. I beg your pardon ! ' — cried Miss Jane,
 
 228 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 recollecting herself; ' but Midget told me the tale 
 of yesterday's doings.' 
 
 ' You need not beg pardon/ Mrs. Keith said 
 with a smile ; 'it is all true. For two years we 
 have been in great straits, and the child has 
 been literally obliged to take what she could 
 get' 
 
 ' Well, that's what I say,' remarked Miss Jane 
 coming nearer, ' and she's so patient. Her face is 
 just as sweet as a rose, and mine would be in forty 
 wrinkles.' 
 
 The mother's eyes filled again, but she turned 
 the words away from Eunice. 
 
 x My dear,' she said, 'when you learn to take 
 everything straight from the Lord's hand, there is 
 peace, and not friction.' 
 
 ' Suppose he gives you nothing ? ' 
 
 'That never happens. "He that waiteth on him 
 shall not be confounded."' 
 
 'There you come round to the waiting again,' 
 said Miss Jane. ' I've tried waiting, and I don't 
 like it.' 
 
 ' I said " waiteth on Him" Mrs. Keith repeat- 
 ed gently. 
 
 < I T know — and I suppose T didn't do that.' 
 
 ' There is no other way that is worth a straw,'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 229 
 
 said Mrs. Keith. ' Waiting alone is dreary work 
 indeed.' 
 
 4 Waiting alone.' Did this woman then, so 
 stripped of everything else, did she really think 
 the Lord of earth and heaven was at her right 
 hand in all the long hours of waiting ? Her words 
 seemed to say it; her face yet more. Miss Jane 
 came another step towards the bed, gazing at her. 
 
 ' How long must one ever wait ? ' she said. 
 
 A wonderful sweet and tender smile lit up Mrs. 
 Keith's face. She answered slowly: 
 
 ' " Dost thou ask, ' When comes his hour ? ' 
 " Then, when it shall serve thee best. 
 
 " Trust his faithfulness and power : 
 " Trust in him, and quiet rest. 
 
 " Suffer on, and hope, and wait ; — 
 " Jesus never comes too late." ' 
 
 But now Miss Jane turned short about. 
 
 ' My uncle desired that you should not get up 
 tonight, Mrs. Keith,' she said; 'and I must go and 
 see after that cookery.'
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 So Miss Jane marched out to the next room to 
 see what was going on there ; although — really 
 and truly, as the children say — she knew rather 
 less of cooking than of most other things. 
 
 It was a pretty picture, if a homely one. David 
 was stirring up his fire and piling on chips; Eu- 
 nice stood by the table vigourously washing sweet 
 potatoes; and the red steak on the white dish 
 looked entirely willing to be broiled, and play its 
 part. 
 
 ' Now what will you do with your potatoes ? ' 
 said Miss Jane, bound to put her finger in some- 
 where. 'They must be baked, you know.' 
 
 ' O yes, Miss Jane,' cried Eunice eagerly, turn- 
 ing round; 'we know. But there isn't any oven, 
 and so Davy's going to roast them.' 
 
 ' Roast them ! ' said Miss Jane looking about her. 
 * On the toasting fork ? They'll take forever, child.' 
 
 David choked back a laugh, stooping down 
 
 (230)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 231 
 
 there over his chips; but Eunice only said with 
 great glee, 
 
 ' We'll shew you, Miss Jane. Now Davy.' 
 
 She ran to the closet for a piece of nice brown 
 paper; and David, coming to the table, began to 
 wrap up each potato carefully and close in a 
 brown paper great coat. Then he made a deep 
 hole in the hot ashes, dipped each potato in cold 
 water, and laid them side by side in the hole. 
 Then he covered them all up with ashes ; and then 
 on top of the ashes heaped hot coals. Miss Jane 
 looked on with great interest. 
 
 ' I am curious to see what they will be like 
 when they come out,' she said. ' And now are 
 you going to smother the steak in the other cor- 
 ner?' 
 
 David laughed and said no ; and Eunice brought 
 out her little gridiron, but it was too soon to use 
 that yet. The potatoes must have a good start 
 first. So Eunice set her table; and David went 
 out and ran down to the meadow for a handful of 
 blue-eyed forget-me-nots; because he had heard 
 Eunice say that Miss Jane liked them. He 
 brought water cresses too : so that the little table 
 looked as fresh as a May morning. 
 
 It was really a long June afternoon. So cool,
 
 232 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 that the fire felt pleasant; so long, that the sun- 
 beams lingered and lingered, as if loth to quit the 
 brown earth. The sweet potatoes came out of the 
 ashes in a state of great perfection: the steak was 
 done as steaks never are except over live coals; — 
 the little party were joyous. David was not at all 
 too big a boy to take every bit of the fun; and 
 Miss Jane was as well amused as she had ever been 
 in her life. As for Eunice, nothing hindered her 
 smiling all the time, but the sheer weight of re- 
 sponsibility. 
 
 ' Will you have brown bread or white bread, 
 Miss Jane? ' she had asked; — and when Miss Jane 
 briskly said, 'Both, of course;' — Eunice went for 
 the two whole loaves, with a shake of the head 
 which told of many thoughts. 
 
 First of all, Mrs. Keith was served; but as she 
 could sit up in bed and take care of herself, that 
 was a short delay. Then when the others drew 
 round the table, the dignity with which Eunice 
 took the head and gave David the foot, putting 
 Miss Jane at the side as a visitor, was good to see. 
 She bade David ask tin- Messing; and then it must 
 be owned. Miss Jane tor a little forgot everything 
 else. For the l.oy's few words of praise and pray- 
 er were as simple as a child's, but as real as if he
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 233 
 
 felt himself in the Presence Chamber. These peo- 
 ple, who as Miss Jane would say, had nothing to 
 live upon on earth, were so much more at home in 
 heaven than any people she knew. Eunice, and 
 Mrs. Keith, and now David. Perhaps what struck 
 her most of all, was the gladness of it. Their eyes 
 seemed to brighten and their voices take a new 
 ring with every look that way. This blessing — or 
 ' grace,' as she would have called it — was no form 
 of respect or propriety; but a sweet aside, as it 
 were, out of life's commonplace into the glorious 
 things of the City of God. She saw it in David's 
 face, she heard it in little Eunice's sigh of content. 
 There were better things than a full meal; and 
 richer things than Miss Jane's diamond soli- 
 taires; — for "man doth not live by bread alone." 
 
 Miss Jane looked and listened, and lost not a 
 bit of the effect; and if Eunice had not been so 
 eager and affectionate in her care and her 
 questions, I doubt whether to this day Miss Jane 
 could have told how sweet potatoes roasted in the 
 ashes do really taste. But as it was, altogether that 
 supper was a great success. David staid a little 
 while longer to help Eunice clear away her dishes ; 
 and Miss Jane sat on the doorstep and watched 
 them and the moon by turns.
 
 234 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 She marched into the next room after that, and 
 briefly announced that she was going to stay all 
 night; — and though Mrs. Keith raised many objec- 
 tions and spoke many negatives, Miss Jane heed- 
 ed them not a whit. 
 
 ' I am going to stay — ' she repeated, when Mrs. 
 Keith had finished her protest. 'And I am sur- 
 prised that you should make any objections. You 
 might like somebody else better; but you know as 
 well as you want to know anything, that God sent 
 one. Or I should never have come,' ended Miss 
 Jane, with a nod of her head. 
 
 .Mrs. Keith laughed a little, though her eyes 
 filled too; but she said no more; and Miss Jane 
 had her way, and played autocrat to her heart's 
 content. She sent Eunice off to bed at the proper 
 time; wrapped herself in her shawl and made quite 
 a nest in the old rocking chair with pillow and 
 blanket (only she shivered to see how thin that 
 clean, carefully-kept blanket was); and might 
 have been asleep in ten minutes, but for the soft 
 murmur of voices in the next room. Eunice had 
 left the door a little open, according to custom; 
 and though the first little chatter was lost in the 
 small hustle of M iss -lane's own arrangements; by 
 the time she had fairly tucked herself up the talk
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 235 
 
 o 
 
 had ceased, and Eunice was — what? reading 
 aloud ? No, the book was here, — Miss Jane looked 
 round to see. That child was absolutely repeat- 
 ing, verse after verse out of the Bible. The little 
 voice went clearly on, from ' The Lord is my Shep- 
 ard ' to, ' Surely — I shall dwell in the house of the 
 Lord for ever.' And then after a moment's pause 
 the other voice took up the word ; but now it was 
 prayer. Simple, loving, childlike, — as if she had 
 been a child herself— so Mrs. Keith's words sound- 
 ed to Miss Jane as she listened. Listened, at last 
 to hear herself prayed for; and such guerdon 
 claimed for her, for what she had done, that Miss 
 Jane hid her face in shame. For what had she 
 done — now or ever? But the psalm came back to 
 her after that; and Miss Jane fell asleep with the 
 ' surely ' sounding in her ears. She wished that 
 ' surely " were her own.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The old doctor's care of the hurt finger was a great 
 success. He came several times more, to see how 
 the work went on, but there was no further need 
 of sharp remedies. The hand must lie idle, indeed, 
 for some time to come ; and strength which the 
 pain had carried away came back but slowly; yet 
 the pain itself was about gone too, and did not 
 come back at all. 
 
 Miss Jane meanwhile, did her part as well as the 
 magician had done his. She bought all the ber- 
 ries, cresses, and flowers, that Eunice could bring; 
 and the little basket never went home empty. 
 Miss Jane never gave Eunice anything but trifles 
 to carry, but they were delightful trifles. Oranges 
 and fresh eggs, a fresh sponge cake or a dozen 
 rolls, — once some white grapes — once, to Eunice's 
 great delight, a bottle of Cologne; — several times 
 a pound of such tea as could not be bought in the 
 village. For Miss Jane had never forgotten that 
 
 (236)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 237 
 
 dismayed look at the empty tea caddy, and so 
 kept sending and sending. A pound of tea, she 
 knew, would not last Tier long. But many a large 
 basket, more heavily freighted, came between 
 whiles, by the hand of the uncivil groom; who 
 now however always brought what manners he 
 had, to the cottage, seeing that his mistress made 
 such a fuss over the people who lived there. Eu- 
 nice looked at the baskets rather gravely some- 
 times, though she was now too entirely devoted 
 to Miss Jane to sav a word. But Mrs. Keith took 
 it all in truer child-fashion, straight from the 
 hand of her Father in heaven. " Your Father 
 knoweth that ye have need of such things;" — 
 he knew and he had sent them : that was all. 
 " How sweet is the wind that bloweth out of 
 the airth where Christ is ! " wrote old Samuel 
 Rutherford. O if people only knew ! For " blow 
 it east, or blow it west," there is no difference 
 about that. 
 
 It was a gay time for Eunice. No ugly shoe- 
 binding work about; no black line across her 
 mother's fingers. Talks in the evening and read- 
 ing by day, with even now and then a walk to- 
 gether out among the fields. The talks were long, 
 but the walks were short; — for life had been a
 
 238 CROSS COR. VERS. 
 
 struggle for the last two years, and Mrs. Keith was 
 more run down than she knew. 
 
 It came to pass, one of the very first days when 
 Eunice had coaxed her mother out, that old Dr. 
 Magic— bowling along from point to point — met 
 the two as they were just near home. With a doc- 
 tor's eve he noted the frolicsome feet of the one and 
 the slow, languid steps of the other; checked his 
 horses, put a cheery question or two; and then turn- 
 ing short about lif rattled away to Cross Corners. 
 
 Everything there was in a lively state of pre- 
 paration. The black horses stood pawing and 
 champing before the door; the uncivil groom with 
 an immense bouquet of daisies on his coat, stood 
 waiting to let down the steps; and from upstairs 
 came a chatter of voices and the sound of running 
 about Dr Magic brought his horses to a stand, 
 and shouted. 
 
 ' Jane ! ' 
 
 Immediately three heads popped out of the two 
 windows. 
 
 4 it's uncle Magic!' cried Miss Ada and Miss 
 Julia both at once. ' We'll be down directly.' 
 
 ' I don't want you,' said the doctor. 'Stay where 
 yon are, and go on with your prinking. I want 
 Jane.'
 
 CA'OSS CORNERS. 280 
 
 ' Well I'm only half prinked, myself,' said Jane, 
 drawing her head in and running down to the 
 carriage, — ' and the w T edding's at one. What is 
 the matter now, sir ? ' 
 
 ' The wedding ! ' repeated the doctor, surveying 
 the gauzy creature that stood by his side. ' I 
 should think, from appearances, you were off for 
 the butterfly's ball' 
 
 ' No such thing, sir. I'm off to see a man made 
 happy — and a woman contrariwise no.' 
 
 The old doctor stroked his hand down over his 
 face, laughing at her. 
 
 'Much you know about it,' he said. 
 
 ' I know I wouldn't trust that man with my lap 
 dog,' said Miss Jane briskly. 
 
 ' If you had one. Well — take all the care you 
 can of what you haven't got. But if you're looking 
 out so sharp for the women, I'll give you one to 
 look after.' 
 
 ' Don't, sir. I ve got myself.' 
 
 ' I shall be glad, for one, when somebody comes 
 home to look after you,' said the old doctor with a 
 kindly smile. ' But the woman I mean is Mrs. 
 Keith.' 
 
 Miss Jane stood back and gazed at him in open- 
 eyed astonishment.
 
 240 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Mrs. Keith ?' she said. ' Why it isn't an hour 
 since I packed her oft" a whole basket of the very 
 nicest things I could find in the house.' 
 
 • There she goes ! — ' said Dr. Magic with a 
 shade of impatience in his tone. 'Practical philan- 
 thropy on high heeled shoes, the world over.' 
 
 ' " There was an old woman, 
 
 " And what do you think ? 
 " She lived upon nothing 
 
 " But victuals and drink ! 
 " Victuals and drink 
 
 " Was the chief of her diet, — 
 " And yel this old woman 
 
 " Could never he quiet " ! ' 
 
 Miss Jane looked at him. 
 
 ' Instead of sitting there, sir, talking about my 
 heels — which are no higher than other peo- 
 ple's, — you had much better say what you want me 
 to do. What ails Mrs. Keith? Isn't she quiet ?' 
 
 ' Too quiet. Send her some spice.' 
 
 'Spice!—' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the old doctor. ' Cinnamon, nutmeg, 
 alspice, cloves, ;unl ginger. Cardamous, and carra- 
 wav seeds. It's too late for today, as that wedding's 
 at one; but you se<- to it that those lazy black 
 horses of yours carry her down a good consign- 
 iiit-nt tomorrow.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 241 
 
 And Dr. Magic gave his own horses a touch of the 
 whip that sent them flying. 
 
 Good for Miss Jane that she had a quick wit and 
 a clear head. And so, though for the moment the 
 wedding — and the prinking — claimed all her at- 
 tention; yet off and on through the next twelve 
 hours. Miss Jane worked away at the old doctor's 
 riddle. And by patiently keeping before her the 
 two leading ideas — ' spice ' and ' lazy black 
 horses,' — the young lady at last wrought out an 
 answer clear and exact enough for a mathematician. 
 
 Spice — and lazy black horses ; — there could be 
 no doubt about it; Dr. Magic meant she should send 
 Mrs. Keith to drive in her own carriage. There 
 was also no doubt that Miss Jane did not like the 
 idea. But why not? Well — she did not want 
 that sort of people seen driving about in her phae- 
 ton. For it was Miss Jane's own particular pos- 
 session, that turnout, — horses, coachman, and all. 
 But what sort of people then were they ? Quite as 
 neat as herself, Miss Jane confessed, — and much 
 better behaved: for aught she knew, even better 
 read. In the course of her talks with Mrs. Keith, 
 Miss Jane had found out that that woman with 
 the cloudless eyes knew a good many things be- 
 sides the Bible. What was the matter then ? why 
 16
 
 242 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 should she not go to drive in Miss Jane's carriage ? 
 It could be only, Miss Jane at last owned to her- 
 self, because she worked for her living and did not 
 wear satin and silk. 
 
 Whereupon, having made this discovery, Miss 
 Jane said ' Pshaw !' — with such a vigonrous stamp of 
 her little foot as settled the question, and startled 
 Miss Ada and Miss Julia (they said) half out of 
 their wits. Then she rang for the coachman and 
 gave him his orders on the spot. 
 
 Dr. Magic's eyes had seen true. Mrs. Keith was 
 much more in need of ' spice ' than anybody else 
 had guessed. For however the inward man may 
 grow strong, the outward wastes under the chisel- 
 ling of sorrow. The pressure of need which had 
 followed the loss of two years ago, had for the time 
 acted as a tonic, and braced Mrs. Keith's energies 
 for her incessant work. But now, for a while, work 
 was impossible: and with the taking off of the 
 strain came a physical nagging which the doctor 
 had perceived. Ber short walk yesterday had 
 tired her; and now today, she thought she would 
 l)i- still and rest. 
 
 4 But you're always resting now! ' cried Eunice. 
 4 And ymi used to say if it wasn't for the shoes you 
 Could •->> and walk ! '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 243 
 
 ' Maybe I will, this afternoon,' the mother said, 
 caressing her. ' Now love, let us have our morn- 
 ing psalm, first of all. It is the hundred and 
 twenty first psalm, today.' 
 
 ' " I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from 
 whence cometh my help." ' — Eunice paused. 
 
 ' I don't understand that, one bit,' she said. 
 ' He didn't know what was on top of the hills. 
 Might have been tigers — or bears — or Indians.' 
 
 ' No, he did not know. When you knoiv, you do 
 not trust. But look across at the 125th Psalm, 
 Eunice : the second verse.' Eunice read. 
 
 " As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, 
 so the Lord is round about his people from hence- 
 forth even for ever." — And Mrs. Keith added: 
 
 " I will be unto them for a wall of defence." 
 
 ' Yes, that does explain it a little,' said Eunice. 
 4 But still there might be all sorts of things there, 
 hid away in the hills.' 
 
 ' There might. But thev oould do no harm to 
 the Lord's peopi*., it the God of the hills was 
 there.' 
 
 Eunice drew a long breath. 
 
 ' No, I s'pose they couldn't,' she said. ' But I 
 don't like bears. Yes, it goes on just as you say, 
 mother. " My help cometh from the Lord, which
 
 244 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 made heaven and earth." Bears and all — ' put in 
 Eunice with her running comment. ' " He will 
 not suffer thy foot to be moved : he that keepeth 
 thee will not slumber." ' 
 
 'Ah how lovely that is!' said Mrs. Keith. 
 1 Now you can see still better, Eunice, what David 
 meant. Don't you know how, when it is all dark 
 and silent and asleep in the valley the hills rise 
 up into the sky among the stars? So clear, so 
 still, so wakeful ? You could almost as soon 
 imagine the stars asleep, as those steadfast hill 
 tops. I think that was partly what David meant. 
 
 " Those watchful eyes 
 That never sleep, 
 Shall Israel keep, 
 
 When dangers rise." ' 
 
 '<-.' 
 
 Eunice looked up at her mother's face, silently 
 nodding her own little head once or twice: then 
 softly and reverently read the next verse. 
 
 "Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither 
 slumber nor sleep." 
 
 ' A wall of defence,' she said, ' and a watch; — is 
 then; anything else ? ' 
 
 ' A Rock. " For the mountains shall depart, 
 and tin' bills be removed; but my kindness shall 
 not depart from tln-c, neither shall the covenant
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 245 
 
 of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath 
 mercy on thee." ' 
 
 Just here there came an interruption. A clat- 
 ter of horses' hoofs, a rolling of wheels, then a 
 knock at the door. And there to be sure was Miss 
 Jane with a bottle of cream in her hand. 
 
 ' No, I can't sit down,' she said, — ' I'm in a 
 frightful hurry ; — but Dr. Magic thinks you ought 
 to go out rather early on such cool days. So you'd 
 better get your dinner ready at once, Midget ; and 
 the carriage will be here for you at three o'clock. 
 And I shall give the coachman his orders, where 
 to go ; — and you are not to interfere with them in 
 any way, because I shall tell him not to mind one 
 word you say. Goodbye,' — and Miss Jane was off, 
 without giving anybody a chance to speak. It 
 was a quick hand indeed, that could get in a word 
 edgeways, when Miss Jane chose to keep talking. 
 Mother and child looked at each other. A drive 
 in Miss Jane's carriage ! — To be sure, Eunice had 
 been there two or three times already; but that 
 was just to be brought home, like a stray parcel: 
 this was to be a real drive, with her mother. While 
 Mrs. Keith herself was hardly less pleased, if only 
 to see the joy that sparkled in her child's eyes. 
 Neither of them spoke, and the first thing Eunice
 
 246 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 did (it was just like what Miss Jane called her 
 4 oldfashioned ways') was to look down at her book 
 and finish the psalm she had beeD reading. I sup- 
 pose really the little heart was overfull ; for the 
 child's voice shook a little and her lips worked. 
 
 " The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade 
 upon thy right hand. 
 
 " The sun shall not smite thee by day nor the 
 moon by night. 
 
 "The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he 
 shall preserve thy soul. 
 
 "The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy 
 coming in from this time forth, and even for ever- 
 more." 
 
 And he's done it!' cried Eunice with a little 
 sob as she closed her Bible. ' He's just done it his 
 own self. You see you weren't strong enough for 
 the going out and the coming in ; and so the Lord's 
 taken it all into his own hands. mother, 
 mother ! ' — 
 
 But with that. Kinder Hew upon her mother, and 
 hugged her ami kissed her and half smothered her 
 with caresses. Then with one of a child's sudden 
 changes, sin- disengaged herself, darted away 
 from her mother's side, and began to prepare 
 dinner.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 That wonderful drive was followed by many others. 
 And each time Miss Jane told the coachman which 
 road to take and how far to go ; so that they had 
 nothing to do but to step in and to step out. But 
 not Miss Jane,— not Eunice in her childish glee, — 
 could even begin to guess what these drives were 
 to Mrs. Keith. The bodily strength was much, 
 that came with each such outing ; but the soul and 
 mind refreshment was yet more. One must have 
 been for two years tied down to dull, drudging, ill- 
 paid work, to even fancy what such drives in the 
 sunshine and the free open air could be. But 
 somehow, at first ; — perhaps because her mind had 
 been dwelling there even more than she knew, in 
 the last two years; — these bits of earthly rest just 
 carried Mrs. Keith's thoughts straight up to the 
 endless rest of heaven. Bible words came to her 
 lips as they wheeled along; Bible images were start- 
 ed by all she saw. 
 
 (247)
 
 248 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 '"The gates of it shall not be shut at all by 
 day,"' ' — so she answered Eunice's comment on the 
 closed entrance to some beautiful grounds. 
 
 • And bo they'll be open all the time,' said Eunice; 
 ' because there won't be any night there. I like 
 that. mother ! see how that spring tumbles up 
 out of the rocks.' 
 
 Mrs. Keith looked, and answered in the same 
 far-away fashion : 
 
 ' " I will give unto him that is athirst, of the 
 fountain of the water of life freely." ' 
 
 'Don't you think I could find my way home 
 from here ? ' Eunice said one day, as the carriage 
 turned at some far oflf point. Mrs. Keith looked 
 down the long shining road. 
 
 ' "An highway shall be there,"' she said, ' "and 
 a way: and it shall be called, the way of holiness. 
 The unclean shall not pass over it: but it shall 
 be for those. The wayfaring men, though fools, 
 shall not err therein." ' 
 
 'That don't tell me — 'said Eunice rather dole- 
 fully. Mrs. Keith bent down and kissed her. 
 
 4 No, darling,' she said. ' I am not sure, Eunice, 
 whether you could follow the road back or not. 
 Yon might easily not find me, from any point. I 
 might not be there. But 1 was thinking, love,
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 249 
 
 that none who seek the Lord Jesus, in the way of 
 holiness, can ever miss him but must always find.' 
 
 ' And then I s'pose they just keep on with him, 
 as Enoch did,' said Eunice. 
 
 'As Enoch did. He walked with God three 
 hundred years; until " he was not; for God had 
 taken him."' 
 
 The carriage rolled along; and more than one 
 passer by looked and wondered at the sweet face 
 they saw there. So clear, so high in its pure 
 sweetness, that no one remarked on the oldfashion- 
 ed bonnet or the very plain gown. 
 
 ' There goes Davy, mother ! ' Eunice suddenly 
 cried out. '0 how hot and tired he looks ! Mayn't 
 I jump out and run and tell him to come to tea?* 
 
 Mrs. Keith gave ready permission ; — then as the 
 coachman stopped and Eunice danced down the 
 steps and along the road, fell back into her mus- 
 ings. 
 
 4 " They shall hunger no more," ' — she thought; 
 — '"neither thirst any more: neither shall the 
 sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb 
 which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, 
 and shall lead them unto living fountains of water. 
 And God shall wipe away all tears from their 
 eyes."'
 
 250 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 But with that there came such a rush of the 
 tears not yet wiped away, that the mother was 
 glad her child was down in the road and some 
 steps ilistant. 
 
 Eunice came back beaming, and reported David 
 quite ready to go out to tea. 
 
 So passed on the summer time for several weeks. 
 Strawberries grew scarcer and raspberries began 
 to be plenty; and still Eunice picked the fields' 
 sweet treasures, and carried them to Cross Cor- 
 ners; and still Miss Jane's appetite for them never 
 flagged. The little velvet purse went back and 
 forth, doing good service; and its quaint little 
 owner, with her honest face and pretty manners, 
 at last won everybody to be her friend. Miss Ada 
 gave her a pincushion, and Miss Julia a ribband 
 to tie round the neck of the kitten that had broken 
 the tumbler. Mrs. Keith's lame hand however 
 was still unfit for work ; and the strawberry 
 money was just now their only supply. And they 
 couldn't even use all of that — as Eunice remarked 
 with much dissatisfaction. 
 
 ' Mother, I don't see why you always lay by 
 pari for Mr. Grab,' she said one day, when she had 
 emptied her little purse on the table, and Mrs. 
 Keith had begun to portion out the coin.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 251 
 
 ' If I did not lay by a little every day, then 1 
 should not have the month's rent ready at the end 
 of the month.' 
 
 'But you might take several days together, 
 then,' said Eunice. 
 
 Mrs. Keith shook her head. 
 
 'This is the sure way,' she said, 'and far the 
 easiest.' 
 
 ' Well then another thing—' Eunice went on 
 discontentedly. ' Mother, if God really gives you 
 the money, why do you just turn round and give 
 part of it back? Don't he mean you to have it ? ' 
 
 For Mrs. Keith had divided the days earnings 
 into three little heaps; and one of them she now 
 swept into the Missionary box. 
 
 ' Suppose I would rather give him back part ? 
 how then ? ' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 ' O well — of course — if you like it,' said Eunice. 
 ' But it isn't so very much, to begin with, — and 
 you know we don't ever buy the freshest loaves, 
 now.' 
 
 ' What do you think of people who have not 
 even a crumb of the bread of life ? ' 
 
 ' Of course, — I know,' — said Eunice again. ' But 
 a few cents can't do much.' 
 
 ' Suppose the few cents bought a few Bible
 
 252 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 leaves, that God blessed to the saving of even a 
 few souls ? ' said Mrs. Keith. Eunice was silent. 
 
 ' Mother,' she said suddenly, ' I wish I was like 
 you and Davy.' 
 
 ' In what way ? ' 
 
 ; I'd like to fed like you,' said Eunice, — ' and I 
 don't: I feel all different. You and Davy enjoy 
 every single thing God does, — it don't matter a bit 
 what it is, and it don't matter a bit whether you 
 want it done. And you're glad of everything 
 we've got, and what we haven't got. And you 
 like going without things, and being sick, and 
 wearing poor frocks, and having to work hard, 
 and nobody caring two cents. O yes, I'd like to 
 feel so. But I don't. And so I just grumble and 
 growl and make a fuss. And no end of mistakes.' 
 
 Eunice did not know why her mother's eyes 
 grew wet, nor why she was drawn close to her 
 mother's breast, while her mother's head rested on 
 hers. Mrs. Keith did not speak for two or three 
 minutes. Then she said, 
 
 ' Yes dear, that is all true. I am glad you know 
 it.' 
 
 Eunice waited for mor< words, but none came. 
 Then she twisted herself away a little, so as to see 
 her mother's face.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 253 
 
 ' Well ? ' she said. 
 
 'Well what?' said Mrs. Keith smiling at her. 
 4 1 am ready to think my little daughter has been 
 having too many things, instead of too few, lately.' 
 
 Yes, that was just the truth. For of course now 
 Mrs. Keith looked quite well again ; and so while 
 dainties still came every now and then from Cross 
 Corners cottage, they came oftenest in Eunice's 
 own little basket, and were just such as she could 
 bring. The drives too had ceased ; and though 
 Mrs. Keith made a point of going out with Eunice 
 for a half hour every day, somehow — for Eunice — 
 the walks had lost flavour. And then she had 
 been so much among Miss Jane's lace and muslin, 
 that truth to say, in her heart Eunice looked down 
 upon calico. There was a dim consciousness of 
 this in the child's own mind ; and so she coloured 
 a little at Mrs. Keith's last words, and made no 
 answer ; but jumped down from her mother's lap 
 and went to get ready to go after her berries. 
 
 Eunice proposed to herself to try a new place this 
 morning, — a place she thought no one knew but 
 herself. In one of her short cuts across the fields 
 to the Cross Corners cottage, she had come upon a 
 thick fringe of strawberry vines, that bordered a 
 bit of woodland. It was a somewhat hid-away
 
 '254 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 place, even from the sunshine, and so the ripening 
 was sure to be late ; but when Eunice first found 
 it the vines were loaded with fair green fruit, just 
 beginning to redden a little. And the vines 
 covered the ground in every direction. 
 
 'There'll be enough to last Miss Jane a whole 
 week,' Eunice decided, eyeing the patch. ' At 
 least if she don't get any very bad headaches.' 
 
 Once or twice since she had been that way to 
 examine ; and three days ago there were so many 
 berries turned from green to red, that Eunice felt 
 Mire there would be a full harvest to-day. But 
 alas for anything that is called 'sure' in this 
 world! — Eunice went leisurely along, swinging 
 her basket, singing to herself; until she had left 
 behind her usual haunts, and struck off on a new 
 road. All was still and peaceful as a summer day 
 could be. But as Eunice turned the last corner 
 and crept under the fence, an ominous sound of 
 voices struck her ear. She straightened herself up, 
 ;m<l then stood quite still. For her beautiful slope 
 of strawberry vines, untrampled and unknown, 
 was now trodden by a dozen pnirs of busy, reck- 
 less feet. Not. dainty feet, neatly clad ; but bare 
 l'< t of the dustiest, with old forlorn Looking boots, 
 and tattered shoes, for variety. There was a
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 255 
 
 ragged sun bonnet down among the thickest of the 
 fruit; and here was another, — and here was a dirty- 
 cap, and here was a shock head that looked as if it 
 had never been brushed. Some of the youngsters 
 were picking into old pails, and one had a salt box, 
 and some had only their mouths — more capacious 
 yet. The little ones of all sorts crammed their 
 mouths full, and then danced up and down and 
 cleared off the fruit in that way. Such a picture of 
 dust and strawberry juice as those children were ! 
 
 Eunice gazed for a minute, quite speechless, — 
 then she sped swiftly down into the midst of 
 things. 
 
 • you are spoiling my berries!' she cried. 4 You 
 have no business to come here, — go right away as 
 fast as you can, this very minute. They are my 
 berries; and I want them every one. dear, 
 dear ! ' — 
 
 The little ragamuffins all started up and looked 
 round at this, gazing in their turn. 
 
 4 Here's a becoming chicken,' — said the tallest 
 boy. ' Where'd you drop from, youngster?' 
 
 1 I'm Eunice Keith, and I found this place.' 
 
 ' Don't say you didn't, chicky, — but it's most a 
 pity yer didn't put it in yer pocket ivhen yer 
 found it. I allays does.' And the tall boy gave
 
 256 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 Eunice a nod of his shock head that almost took 
 her breath away with indignation. 
 
 ' Go right off, every one of you ! ' she cried. 
 ' The berries are mine. dear, dear! — I'm afraid 
 you've spoiled them all, already. You don't know 
 how to pick.' 
 
 'Don't us?' said a girl, clutching a handful as 
 she spoke, and crowding them into her mouth: red 
 ones, green ones, and blades of grass, all together. 
 ' The better for them as comes after. Just vou 
 
 * 
 
 wait.' 
 
 'Yes, run home and git yer dinner, sissy,' said 
 the tall boy. ' Didn't know vou was comin' so 
 early, you see; but we'll have it all raked up for 
 yer, like, by arternoon. Might stain yer stockin's 
 now, you know.' 
 
 ' Stockin's ! ' cried a girl. ' Shoes and stockin's ! 
 Gray!-' 
 
 Eunice stood still, choking with displeasure, and 
 a little frightened too, at the wild faces and the 
 shouts of laughter. 
 
 ' Come now,' said another boy, ' don't scare her. 
 She aint no sort of a bad girl, — kind o' handsome, 
 she is. Maybe she aint got no dinner to go to, no 
 more'n we hasn't. See here, sissy, it'll be share 
 and share. Come along and pick into yer own
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 257 
 
 private purse, but we can't allow no baskets: that 
 wouldn't be square. No one can't fetch a basket, 
 nor a pail, nor nothin', 'cept his own self, without 
 he's got sick folks or lame folks to home. Come 
 along, — they sha'n't touch yer: Unless they 
 wants to jump the fence back'ards, in the spryest 
 kind of a style.' And the big boy set his big fists, 
 and looked dark threats at all the unruly crowd. 
 
 But with this display of making common cause 
 with her, the last shred of Eunice's bravery blew 
 clear off. She gazed at the ragged speaker, her 
 eyes widening; but then she whirled about, dash- 
 ed under the fence, and was out of hearing of the 
 shouts and laughter long before they had died 
 away. On and on; down one green slope and 
 up another; over the brook, through gates, — the 
 child hardly knew herself where she went : until at 
 last she darted into the beloved doorway, and lay 
 sobbing out her troubles in her mother's arms. 
 
 Much startled at first, Mrs. Keith could not im- 
 mediately find out the matter: and when at last 
 Eunice contrived to tell where all this had befallen 
 her, the mother was more alarmed yet. 
 
 ' My child ! — you do not mean that you went to 
 
 Farmer Dent's woods ? Why that is clear beyond 
 
 our village line.' 
 17
 
 258 CA'OSS CORNERS. 
 
 'O yes,' sobbed Eunice, — 'it wasn't so far, — it 
 isn't IhaL' 
 
 ' You must never go there again,' said Mrs. Keith 
 earnestly. ' Xever, Eunice, do you hear ? Never 
 go near there without my special leave.' 
 
 ' But the strawberries are 'most gone over this 
 way,' said Eunice, sitting up and wiping her eyes. 
 
 • And what's left of them are little mean things, 
 — dried up I guess. These were so big ! — ' her 
 lip quivered. 
 
 'Xever mind, love,' said the mother kissing her. 
 
 • My finger is so much better: I can begin on the 
 shoes tomorrow, I think.' 
 
 'I don't want you to,' said Eunice: 'I didn't 
 want ever to see any more shoes. I wanted to get 
 all the money myself.' 
 
 ' But my unreasonable little daughter,' said Mrs. 
 Keith with a smile, ' did you expect to find berries 
 all the year round? We will just be thankful 
 there have been so many.' 
 
 4 Yes, you're always thankful,' said Eunice, as if 
 that was one of her special grievances. 
 
 ' I am sure you ought to be glad.' But in an- 
 swer to that Eunice drew a sigh long enough for 
 a grown up person. 
 
 'Dear me!' she said, 'it's very difficult to get
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 259 
 
 along in this world ! ' — Her head took a little easi- 
 er rest on her mother's shoulder. Then she start- 
 ed up again. 
 
 ' Whatever wlU Miss Jane say, not to have any 
 strawberries ? Those bad children ! ' 
 
 ' It was naughty to frighten you,' said Mrs. 
 Keith; ' but their right to the berries seems to me 
 better than yours.' 
 
 ' But I found them ! ' cried Eunice. 
 
 ' Plainly, so had they.' 
 
 ' And I wanted 'em for Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' And they for themselves.' 
 
 ' But I mean, to get money for you,' said 
 Eunice. ' They didn't want 'em to sell. They 
 were just eating, eating, like a drove of little 
 pigs.' 
 
 ' Well I never saw a drove of little pigs yet, that 
 were not hungry,' said Mrs. Keith. ' Maybe these 
 poor children had nothing else to eat for their 
 next meal. Remember, God is their Father too, 
 Eunice. He may have sent them there for din- 
 ner.' 
 
 Eunice shook her head. 
 
 ' He wouldn't send them and me too,' she said. 
 Mrs. Keith smiled. 
 
 'Maybe he would,' she said. 'To see how this
 
 260 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 happy little child would treat her forlorn brothers 
 and sisters.' 
 
 ' I didn't treat 'em at all,' said Eunice. ' They 
 treated me.' 
 
 ' Are you quite sure ? Did no quick word come 
 from the lips of my little daughter ? ' 
 
 ' I just told 'em they'd no business there,' said 
 Eunice. 'Yes, I s'pose I said it pretty quick.' 
 
 ' If you did not speak respectfully of course they 
 would not. For no one has ever taught them, Eu- 
 nice.' 
 
 ' But mother,' said the little girl, her eyes filling, 
 4 you don't speak respectfully to such folks.' 
 
 ' Do you not ? I do.' 
 
 • yes — you ! ' said Eunice, much aggrieved 
 again. ' I s'pose they'd have helped fill your bas- 
 ket and made you tell 'em a story. But they're 
 not respectable, / think.' 
 
 ' And yet God made them — so they must be fit 
 for something; and he loves them — so they must 
 be worth something ; and Christ died for them — so 
 they must be very, very precious.' 
 
 'Well, I s'pose I shall never be good,' Eunice 
 answncd in a resigned tone. 'Mother, do you 
 think I had better go and hunt up some cresses 
 for Miss Jaue ? '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 261 
 
 * I think you had better not hunt up anything 
 more today but a nap. Go and sleep off all your 
 worries ; and then after dinner you may walk up 
 to Cross Corners and tell Miss Jane the tale of 
 your empty basket.'
 
 CHAPTER XXm. 
 
 Eunice, slept off her worries, for the time at least, 
 eat her dinner with an excellent appetite; and 
 then set off for Cross Corners, basket in hand. An 
 empty one this time; — and if the child had been 
 old enough to moralize, she might have had many- 
 wise thoughts about the folly of grumbling at any- 
 thing today, since by tomorrow that very most 
 disagreeable thing may turn about and become a 
 pleasure. It was really not so very long since Eu- 
 nice had found it a great trial to take berries to 
 Miss Jane, — while now, she only wished she had 
 them to take. Something of this kind did indeed 
 cross her mind; but she did not go on to apply the 
 lesson. 
 
 'Tt isn't that so much,' she said to herself, swing- 
 ing the empty basket and jerking it up and down 
 ;ih if if alone were responsible. ' Tt isn't the hav- 
 ing nothing to carry there, — it's because T'vc got to 
 take something back.' — And she gave the basket a 
 
 (262)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 263 
 
 flirt which if it had been at all weak minded 
 would certainly have had an unhappy effect. 
 
 ' And there's my shoe untied, now ? — she said, as 
 if that was part and parcel of the same concern. 
 'Both shoes!' 
 
 But after all, it is no terrible thing to have shoe- 
 strings play such pranks when you are out on a 
 pretty road, and you are not in a hurry, and the 
 weather is perfect. Eunice stepped aside and 
 climbed up the little roadside bank, and sat down 
 under the fence to tie her shoes. Near by a wild 
 plum tree stretched its leafy branches; at her 
 back was a great elder bush. The warm summer 
 hush was upon everything: the afternoon breeze 
 was not yet astir ; the afternoon hurry of the birds 
 towards bedtime not yet begun. Eunice tied her 
 lawless shoestrings and then sat still, sighing for 
 very pleasure. The sun was hot, — but little peo- 
 ple who pick berries do not mind that: the soft 
 rustle of leaves was so sweet, one could hardly 
 wish for more of a commotion. Faint farm sounds 
 came from one place and another: hens cackled, 
 cocks crowed, turkeys gobbled, horses neighed 
 and cows lowed. Somewhere a peacock raised his 
 voice: somewhere else a donkey raised Ms. Men 
 called to their teams, birds chattered to their
 
 264 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 households; — but it was all blended and mingled 
 till it was all one great sweet summer chorus. 
 There was even the clear tinkle of a little brook 
 somewhere near by. 
 
 Suddenly, as Eunice sat dreaming in the sun- 
 shine, a sweet, strong whistle struck in, — a voice 
 she knew well ; — and then in a moment the whis- 
 tle passed into song. 
 
 "No burning heats by day, 
 
 "Nor blasts of midnight air, 
 " Can take my life away, 
 
 " If God be with me there. 
 " I'll go and come 
 
 " Nor fear to die, 
 
 " Till from on high 
 " Thou call me home." 
 
 Sweet, clear, the words rang out; and it was 
 wonderful how they seemed to fit in with every- 
 thing else. And again, had Eunice been older, 
 she would have known it was because the whole 
 natural world was full of praise. " All thy works 
 praise thee, O God, in all places of thy dominion." 
 
 Right across her way at this point, turning in 
 from a side road, came a slow-moving yoke of 
 oxen, toiling along in front of a great mound of 
 BWeet-smelling hay. The hay was piled up and up, 
 till one wondered how it ever got there; but the
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 265 
 
 oxen plodded patiently on with half-shut eyes, as 
 if that was none of their business; keeping strict- 
 ly to their work, which was to carry the load safe 
 into the barn. Yet do their best, they could not 
 get it quite all there. First a little playful wisp at 
 the top of the load would slide off, in a game of 
 hide and seek with the soft breeze; then a stone 
 in the road would jolt off another, quite down un- 
 der the wheel ; and then an old apple tree by the 
 roadside would thrust its crooked arm right into 
 the hay, and pull out a lock to see if it was good. 
 But still the oxen toiled on, giving no heed; and 
 walking along by them with his usual cheery step, 
 was David. Eunice watched till he was well out on 
 the main road with his team, then she sprang out 
 of the shade of the elder bush and down the bank. 
 
 1 Davy, how nice ! ' she cried. ' Now you'll 
 put everything in order.' 
 
 4 Sounds easy, doesn't it ? ' said David; ' but I'm 
 afraid it's too long a job for a busy boy like me. 
 Where are you off to, small child, at this time of 
 day?' 
 
 4 O I'm going to tell Miss Jane I haven't got 
 any berries.' 
 
 4 Taking the empty basket along to prove the 
 fact?'
 
 266 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' No — ' said Eunice with a twist of her shoul- 
 ders. ' This isn't my berry basket. This basket 's 
 going for shoes. And I wish it wasn't.' 
 
 ' Then Mrs. Keith's hand is really well again,' 
 said David. ' What good news ! ' 
 
 ' I don't know whether it is or not,' said Eunice. 
 'She might 'most as well have her hand on a 
 pillow as to have it all cut up with that hard 
 black thread.' 
 
 'Very selfish, Eunice Keith.' 
 
 ' Why no it isn't ! ' said the little girl, her eyes 
 filling. ' It's all for Aer.' 
 
 ' Is it ? ' said David, halting his oxen, and open- 
 ing a sort of little nest in the front of the load of 
 hay. ' Nov/ if you'll be a sensible child, I'll give 
 you a ride, but if you're going to talk grumbles, 
 you'll just have to foot it and take all the dust you 
 come to. 
 
 ' I'll be good ! ' cried Eunice in high glee, 
 (•limbing up into the sweet hay. 'Only you 
 mustn't take me too far, Daw.' 
 
 ' I'll set you down at another cross road that is 
 just as near. Now what have you been doing all 
 day?' 
 
 Eunice told her tale, nestled there in the sweet, 
 warm cushions; life looked brighter already; and
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 267 
 
 David had hung her basket on one of the wagon 
 poles, so even that grievance was out of sight. 
 And David listened, with sometimes a smile, and 
 sometimes a shake of the head, yet answered hard- 
 ly a word, as the tale went on. Eunice at last 
 grew a little suspicious of this silence. 
 
 ' Now Davy, why do you laugh ? ' she said. 
 
 ' Laugh, did T ? ' said David. 
 
 1 Yes you did,' said Eunice ; ' and I think it's 
 very serious.' 
 
 ' So do I,' said David. ' You must not go over 
 there again, small child.' 
 
 'That's what mother said,' remarked Eunice, 
 leaning back comfortably in her hay nest ; ' but I 
 don't see why I should stay away and those bad 
 children go.' 
 
 ' Because there's no board up at the gate : " C Ay 
 very good children admitted.'" 
 
 ' Davy, you sha'n't say that ! ' said Eunice 
 leaning forward again. ' You might better 
 laugh. Where have you been all day, I won- 
 der?' 
 
 'Making hay.' 
 
 ' Well hay 's almost the sweetest thing in the 
 world,' said Eunice, turning her face so as to touch 
 the fragrant mass. ' But it's queer people have to
 
 268 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 make it. I should think grass could grow all the 
 time.' 
 
 1 Then we shouldn't know how sweet hay is.' 
 * No, I s'pose we shouldn't,' said Eunice, nest- 
 ling back once more. ' And it is sweeter than 
 grass. Davy, why do you say 'making hay?' 
 You don't make it, — the sun makes it.' 
 
 4 1 do my part,' said David. ' That's the way in 
 all kinds of haymaking: 
 
 " I do the little I can do, 
 And leave the rest to thee." ' 
 
 1 All kinds of haymaking ? there isn't but one,' 
 Eunice said. 
 
 ' O there you are quite out, small child,' said 
 David. ' I've been making hay two ways, all day.' 
 
 ' Well I should like to know what you mean by 
 haymaking, then,' said Eunice. 
 
 4 What do you mean by hay ? ' 
 
 4 Hay ? ' said Eunice, Kitting straight up in her 
 eagerness, — 4 well I should say I know what hay 
 is ! — sitting here in it. You cut the grass in the 
 mi i inner, and you put it away for the winter, 
 fhat's hay.' 
 
 ' Not (mite,' said David. 4 Farmers would have 
 an easy time, if it was only, cut and carry in.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 269 
 
 ' you leave it in the sun first, a good while,' 
 said Eunice. 'And turn it over and over.' 
 
 ' And that's haymaking. Turning over sweet 
 things in the sunshine and storing them up for a 
 time of scantiness. They're so plenty now. ' Make 
 hay while the sun shines,' you know, Eunice Keith.' 
 
 4 Yes, I know — about this hay,' said Eunice. 
 
 ' It's sunshine all through, to-day,' said David ; 
 4 and I've made lots of real clover hay.' 
 
 'This?' 
 
 ' This — and that. This for farmer Dickson, and 
 that for myself. I've turned ever so many of the 
 promises over and over in the sun, and I know 
 they'll be ready when the cold comes. And I've 
 stored away precepts, so that I'll know where to 
 find them. It's a bad thing to have to run round 
 in the snow to hunt up what you want.' 
 
 ' Davy,' said Eunice, leaning forward and speak- 
 ing very earnestly, ' I think you are the very 
 queerest boy that ever lived.' 
 
 ' Am I ? ' said David. ' Seems to me you're 
 rather hard on bare-footed folks, of a sudden.' 
 
 ' I'm not ! ' said Eunice. ' You mustn't say so. I 
 just wish you'd seen their feet, and you'd have been 
 hard yourself. But I mean, Davy, I don't know a 
 bit what you mean.'
 
 •J 70 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 It has been such a day ' — said David, glancing 
 round at her : ' such a blessed, wonderful day. 
 Such a day of the Lord's sunshine. Everything 
 liis been just a little better than usual. So as I 
 tell you, small child, I've been storing up sweet 
 things for time to come. — " Fear thou not, for I am 
 with thee." — Some day when the wind blows keen 
 I'll go after that, and fnd it. " He knoweth the 
 way that I take,"- I'll find that too. " The Lord 
 is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right 
 hand." » 
 
 ' I know that Psalm,' broke in Eunice, ' I've 
 read it to mother.' 
 
 4 But then you left it in the field,' said David, 
 ' instead of storing it up.' 
 
 Eunice sat silent. 
 
 ' Davy,' she said suddenly, ' there's a great 
 de d of hay wasted. Just look at it all along 
 the road.' 
 
 David laughed a little, then all at once halted 
 his oxen. 
 
 1 Here's your turning,' he said, jumping Eunice 
 down from her perch and giving her the basket. 
 1 Go straight down that road, and you'll be at Cross 
 Corners in five minutes.' 
 
 • But I don't want to be there in five minutes ! '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 271 
 
 cried Eunice. ' Davy, stop !— you're always in 
 such a hurry ! Just a minute, Davy !' 
 
 « Can't stop,' — said David : ' haven't got a min- 
 ute till sundown, that belongs to me. Come 
 along ! — haw ! ' — 
 
 The meek oxen plodded on again : Eunice stood 
 still in the road gazing after them, her small brows 
 knit in some displeasure. 
 
 ' Well, I think Davy's a little bit too good,' she 
 said. ' That's what / think.' 
 
 With which expression of opinion, Miss Eunice 
 Keith shook her short skirts into order, brushing 
 off the hay seeds; took off her bonnet and shook 
 that; dusted herself down generally; and marched 
 off to Cross Corners.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 It was a fruitless walk. Miss Jane was out, and 
 everybody was out except black Soper ; who heard 
 the tale of the lost berries with great sympathy, 
 and promised to render a full report. 
 
 ' But that won't do any good,' Eunice said to her- 
 self as she turned away with her still empty basket. 
 She had had a little secret hope that Miss Jane 
 might pour in rolls and oranges (as she sometimes 
 did) till there would be no room for the shoes; but 
 of course black Soper — with all the good will in 
 the world — could not do that. The empty basket 
 dangled and danced just as disagreeably as when 
 she set out. No help for it, — she must stop at Mr. 
 Vamp's and get the shoes. 
 
 It chanced to be a day when things had gone 
 
 sideways at the shoemakers; and Eunice being 
 
 tlii- first safe channel that came in sight, Mr. Vamp 
 
 poured out his discontent upon her. 
 
 ' Wants shoes, docs sin- ? ' he said. ' Why hasn't 
 (272)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 273 
 
 she wanted 'em before ? It's a matter of six weeks, 
 more or less, since she sent home the last lot.' 
 
 ' Her hand has been lame,' said Eunice. 
 
 4 What's that to do ? ' said Mr. Vamp. ' I can't go 
 on keepin' the place open for lame-handed folks. 
 They 's got to be sound that works for me.' 
 
 'Well she didn't work, and she couldnt work,' 
 said Eunice flushing up. ' But she's better now.' 
 
 ' And now 's just the prime o' the hot weather, 
 when most folks' d sooner be without shoes than 
 not,' said Mr. Vamp. ' So of course now's just 
 the exact time when you want 'em.' 
 
 ' I don't want them,' said Eunice hotly. * If you 
 think I do, you're just about as much mistaken as 
 <?ver you were in your life, Mr. Vamp.' 
 
 The shoemaker laughed. 
 
 « So, so ? ' he said. ' Why who's child's this, I 
 wonder ? Such a crow as that can't never have 
 come out of the Keith cottage. Here's your bun- 
 dle, child. Run home to your mother; and tell 
 her a good whipping or two wouldn't hurt ye, and 
 might learn ye manners. Clear out ! ' — 
 
 'Out,' Eunice went, with her stateliest step, — 
 
 but instead of going home, she turned off from the 
 
 village road and ran like the wind to one of her 
 
 favourite shady corners at the edge of the woods. 
 18
 
 •j 74 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 And there she threw herself down on the warm 
 moss, and cried till she certainly thought she had 
 no tears left. Now it is true that that little fount- 
 ain does not so easily run dry; only Eunice thought 
 so. There were really plenty of tears left, — more 
 than plenty: but she did cry till she was tired. 
 Then she sat up and dried her eyes and looked 
 about her. 
 
 It was quite time she should be at home, that was 
 clear. Long shadows lay over the road; shadows 
 every minute growing longer, and running into 
 each other more and more: the cows were come 
 home to the milking, the chickens were picking 
 up the last crumbs of their supper, the birds were 
 busily seeking theirs. Only with so many little 
 open mouths to fill, the robins and sparrows must 
 have been hard put to it to know which ivas 
 the last. It would be much later than this, and 
 quite well on in the twilight, before the old birds 
 snatched a morsel or so and went to bed. And 
 now, sounding gently out from the old white spire, 
 came the first warning bell, reminding the village 
 that this was prayer meeting night. 
 
 But at the i< ■nd< , r voice of flu- old bell, Eunice 
 drew the deepesl sigh she had managed yet. For 
 what was, really, the very worst thing that rude
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 275 
 
 Mr. Vamp had said ? Ah, it is always so ! — the 
 thing that stung deepest and would not go, was 
 not the rough words that were false, but the one 
 smooth-enough word that was true. 
 
 * Why, whose child is this ? ' Mr. Vamp had 
 said. 
 
 Well, whose was it, sure enough ? — for Eunice 
 seemed to have quite forgotten. This angry little 
 girl, with red face, hardly able to speak for her 
 anger, or to find sharp enough words when she 
 did ? — whose child could she possibly be ? Not 
 the child of Him " who when he was reviled, revil- 
 ed not again; " — not even of his patient follower 
 down in the little cottage, in whose lips was " the 
 law of kindness." Eunice began to feel very 
 much like a little outcast, as if she belonged to 
 nobody. 
 
 4 But I do, though ! ' — so she contradicted her- 
 self: ' only I forgot it.' 
 
 Yes, she had clean forgotten whose child she 
 was. Forgotten that her Father in heaven had 
 said: "A soft answer turneth away wrath; " — 
 forgotten the commandment : "Bless them which 
 persecute you: bless, and curse not." 
 
 ' Well I didn't curse — ' said Eunice, nodding her 
 head as if that was one point gained, — 'but maybe
 
 276 CA'OSS COKKEXS. 
 
 I should, if I'd known how,' she added honestly. 
 ' I'm sure I didn't bless. And it ivas persecution. 
 
 dear ! — I'm such a goose ! — Such a wicked 
 goose ! ' 
 
 Two or three sobs rose up at that; and then Eu- 
 nice picked up her basket and sped away home. 
 
 * I've got the shoes,' she said, hurrying in and 
 laying them on the table. 'And I've paid for 
 them, too, — a great deal more than I had to spare. 
 And oh, mother, if you don't pray very hard that 
 
 1 may stop being a wicked goose, and never for- 
 get whose child I am, then I don't know what I 
 shall do.' 
 
 The mother asked no questions, but drew the 
 child into her arms and knelt with her, then and 
 there; — and it was not till after the prayer that 
 Eunice told her story.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 That night the weather changed; and a violent 
 
 storm of wind and rain swept earth and sky till 
 
 daybreak. But it did not disturb Eunice. From 
 
 the time her weary little head went down upon 
 
 the pillow, sleep, of the soundest and sweetest, 
 
 held her fast. If the wind roared and the cottage 
 
 swayed, she seemed to take it all as an additional 
 
 lullaby. 
 
 Not so Mrs. Keith. The child had poured off 
 
 her own excitement, and the mother had caught 
 
 it all; — and without a thought of sleep, she lay 
 
 thinking of the new dangers and difficulties that 
 
 were opening before Eunice, as the child grew 
 
 older; and of new precautions and guardings 
 
 which must go forth to meet them. Hard plans 
 
 to lay, hard things to do, for one tied down at 
 
 home to the daily bread-winning; the mother's 
 
 eyes grew more and more sleepless and wide open, 
 
 gazing out upon the way that seemed to lie before 
 
 (277)
 
 278 CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 her little daughter. Ami then at last, the very 
 storm which rocked Eunice to sleep, brought its 
 message to Mrs. Keith; and through all the tu- 
 mult she heard just one thing. 
 
 " The rain descended, and the floods came, and 
 the wind blew, and heat upon that house, and it 
 fell not; for it was founded upon a rock." 
 
 That was all. The little feet firm planted there, 
 could not go wrong : the child — '"Safe in the arms 
 of Jesus" — would be safe, — even though the 
 mother's weak hands wore far away. 
 
 'And '"I know whom T have believed." Mrs. 
 Keith repeated to herself, ' " and that he is able to 
 keep that which 1 have committed unto him." 
 
 The lips did tremble, and the eyes were wet; 
 but in five minutes more she was asleep. 
 
 It was a great frolic for Eunice to get the start 
 of her mother and wake up first; which rarely 
 happened indeed, unless some special fatigue or 
 sleeplessness had filled up the early part of the 
 night for Mrs. Keith. And so it fell out this 
 morning. Eunice slipped out of bed in high glee, 
 dressed herself on tiptoe; and then marched out to 
 the next room, softly shutting the door between. 
 And really there was plenty to do, so it was well 
 she got up betimes.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 279 
 
 In the first place, the rain had beaten in clear 
 under the door, and must be swept out. Then, 
 putting the door wide open for this purpose, Eu- 
 nice found a little mat of twigs and leaves cover- 
 ing all the doorstep ; and the wet leaves stuck so 
 fast, that they were very hard to sweep off, and 
 some of them had clearly come to stay. 
 
 She was labouring away at a great maple leaf, 
 that lay there as if it were glued to the stone ; her 
 cheeks red with the exercise, her hair dancing in 
 the wind, her broom making most energetic passes 
 at the wilful leaf; when all at once a terrible 
 commotion broke forth in the kitchen behind her. 
 
 ' Dear, dear !' said Eunice, 'everything always 
 comes at once. I do think those swallows might 
 have waited to tumble down chimney till I got 
 through sweeping ! ' — 
 
 She set her broom in the corner, stooped down 
 and picked up the leaf that wouldn't sweep off and 
 tossed it out on the path ; then ran in to see what 
 was the matter there : for such a screaming and 
 chirping and twittering — and screaming again — 
 must mean a good deal. 
 
 Sure enough, there — mixed up very promiscu- 
 ously with the ashes and brands of last night's fire, 
 were no less than three broods of young swallows ;
 
 •JSO CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 one lately hatched out, one sporting a few feath- 
 ers here and there, and one almost full Hedged. 
 These last indeed soon made little excursions 
 out on the hearth, climbed into the chip basket, 
 and clambered up the wall. But if they were all 
 far apart in age and experience, they were alike in 
 knowledge of what voices were meant for. Not 
 one of them paused for a minute, — from the plain- 
 tive chirp down among the ashes, to the shrill 
 vociferation of the youug lliruudo, who had 
 mounted one of the andirons and now demanded 
 his breakfast and his home. But while all this 
 went steadily on, the minute the sound of wings 
 was heard up chimney, as the perturbed heads 
 of families came with supplies which there was 
 nobody to take; — then indeed the young ones all 
 spoke at once; and there broke forth a clamour 
 which was as ear-piercing as it was pitiful. 
 
 ' dear, dear ! ' Eunice cried, putting her hands 
 to her head, — k if you only would just hush for two 
 minutes and let me hear myself think ! Do stop ! 
 — I'm not going to broil you all for breakfast, And 
 I really do not see,' Eunice went on, folding her 
 arms and standing calmly in front of the racket ; 
 • I really do not see, how I am to get any breakfast 
 at all. Of course you've waked mother up, — and
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 281 
 
 now I suppose you'll just go on screaming your 
 lives out, there in the ashes.' 
 
 And just then there came a whirr of grown up 
 wings in the chimney; and again all the young 
 swallows below screamed like two to one. Eunice 
 stopped her ears. 
 
 ' You can't wish you were up there, more than I 
 wish you were,' she said, turning round as the 
 door opened. ' mother, whatever are we to do ? 
 Take care ! — there's one scampering round just 
 under your feet.' 
 
 'Scampering round? are they so big as that?' 
 said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 ' they're all sizes,' said Eunice despairingly : 
 little, and big, and 'most big, and half little. And 
 if there are any more sorts I think we've got 'em. 
 And where I'm to get breakfast, I'm sine I don't 
 know. I don't care about eating young swallows, 
 myself.' 
 
 4 Nor I,' said Mrs. Keith, laughing at Eunice's 
 long face. 'But breakfast we must have, and 
 soon. I'll tell you, love, — we'll make our fire out- 
 side.' 
 
 ' Outside ? ' cried Eunice, — ' out of doors ? 1 
 wish the swallows would tumble down every day ! ' 
 
 So one took the chip basket and the other the
 
 282 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 kettle, and went back of the house to a big flat 
 stone, with no trees hanging over it that could be 
 hurt; and there they lit the fire. The wind had 
 kept on blowing for some time after the rain 
 reused, so that the rock was fairly dry; and the 
 rain drops had sunk down among the pebbles of 
 the little walk, leaving that dry too; — and on the 
 walk they set their chairs. And Mrs. Keith's 
 little work stand marched out to serve as a break- 
 fast table. 
 
 It was a very simple breakfast. Tea and milk ; 
 some not over-fresh bread ; a dish of water cresses ; 
 and two of Miss Jane's last gift of bananas. The 
 last two — as Eunice remarked to herself. But 
 no empty cupboard nor scant supplies could shad- 
 ow the glee of that breakfast out of doors. To 
 begin with — like the relief from a headache — 
 it was positive pleasure to be out of hearing of 
 those screaming swallows; — and then every thing 
 rise was harmony itself. It seemed to Eunice that 
 she wanted to look everywhere at once; and 
 everywhere there was something sweet to see. 
 
 1 Yes, I wish they would tumble down every day," 
 she repeated, as she finished her banana. 'But 
 what we're going to do with their now they are 
 down, I'm sure I don't know.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 283 
 
 It was the finishing touch to this wonderful 
 morning-, that at this very moment David should 
 be at hand, and shew himself. In fact he had 
 noticed the smoke coming from such an unusual 
 place, that he had got farmer Dickson's leave to 
 run across lots and see what was the matter. David 
 made short work with the swallows. He caught 
 the oldest, and put them up the chimney as far as 
 his arm could reach, when they soon took hold and 
 mounted up to their father and mother; and the poor 
 little unfledged things in the fireplace — half dead 
 already with ashes and screaming, he drowned at 
 once, as the kindest thing that could be done. The 
 fallen nests he gave to Eunice, and was off and 
 away over the fields again, before the young swal- 
 lows in the chimney had half told their tale. The 
 cottage was once more quiet. 
 
 Eunice stood thinking. 
 
 ' I thought yesterday that David was a little bit 
 too good,' she said reflectively ; ' but I don't know 
 that he is. It's convenient. Mother, what queer 
 nests swallows do build.' 
 
 She brought to Mrs. Keith the one unbroken 
 nest that had slipped down the chimney. It was 
 a queer enough house for anything. Rather large, 
 knotty, twigs laid cross wise of each other, were
 
 284 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 built up into a very shallow little saucer with one 
 straight side. The twigs were roughly bound to- 
 gether with what looked like a thick glue; and on 
 the straight side the glue was even and smooth, 
 showing that here the nest had been fastened up 
 against the chimney. 
 
 1 Whatever made it fall ? ' said Eunice, looking 
 curiously at the little structure. 
 
 4 It was a fair weather house,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 1 The glue held fast and strong, until the storm 
 came and it got wet. But when "the rain de- 
 scended, and the floods came, and the winds blew 
 and beat upon that house, it fell." ' 
 
 4 You always think of something,' said Eunice. 
 4 Mother, don't you ever forget ? ' 
 
 ' Forget the 4< endless life ? " ' said Mrs. Keith, — 
 ' no, I think I never do. You see, Eunice, I do not 
 want my treasure lodged in a fair weather house.' 
 
 1 Well I shouldn't think you would,' said Eunice, 
 looking at the nest. ' Poor little swallows ! I 
 suppose they thought they were very safe in the 
 chimney. Now I should think the orioles would 
 be just frightened to death, all the time.' 
 
 • What makes people frightened?' 
 
 'O — bad things,' said Eunice, — 4 frightful things, 
 that may hurt them.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 285 
 
 ' The orioles took care of that, when they built 
 their house. They swung- it out on the tip end of 
 a bough where no snake could come, and they 
 bound it so fast that no storm could blow it away. 
 The summer tempests toss it up and down; the 
 winter pelts it with snow and hail ; and yet year 
 after year the fastenings hoid, and year after year 
 the birds live their pretty family life in the old 
 house which never wears out. "The winds blew 
 and beat upon that house, and it fell not." ' 
 
 Mother and child stood silently a bit, looking 
 up at the little nest that swung off so fearlessly in 
 mid air. 
 
 4 Well I should think they'd be afraid, after all,' 
 Eunice repeated. 
 
 And even as she spoke, the head of the house in 
 his glowing black and orange flew up to the top 
 of the old elm tree, and whistled such a roundelay 
 as certainly never came from a frightened heart. 
 
 ' " So may I sing — in Jesus safe," ' Mrs. Keith 
 repeated ; — and she turned and went into the 
 house and sat down to her shoe-binding; while 
 Eunice took dustpan and broom and began to 
 clear away the muss.
 
 CHAPTER XXVT. 
 
 No berries could be picked that day, they were 
 too drenched with wet. And of course when Eu- 
 nice went empty-handed to Cross Corners, there 
 was a great deal to talk about. First of all, came 
 the tale of the swallows and the orioles and the 
 out of door breakfast. But Miss Jane had some 
 private questions of her own on hand this morn- 
 ing; and so while she seemed to listen to all Eu- 
 nice had to say, she really was thinking her own 
 thoughts the while, all the same. 
 
 The fact was, that black Soper in giving his 
 message, had touched it up a little in the wrong 
 place; — as will happen sometimes, when we try to 
 do a friend service without knowing how. Soper 
 laid great stress on the basket, which had gone 
 back empty as it came. He had thought and 
 thought no harm of it) that Eunice expected Miss 
 Jane to fill up the emptiness with nice tilings. — as 
 
 Miss Jane certainly would, if she had been at 
 (286)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 287 
 
 home. Soper knew nothing about the shoes that 
 Eunice was to carry back, and of course said noth- 
 ing; — and so to Miss Jane, looking coolly on from 
 a distance, it seemed as if the basket had come to 
 be filled, —and that did not please her. 
 
 However, she waited till Eunice had finished her 
 account of the morning's doings ; studying the lit- 
 tle speaker as she talked, and half losing sight of 
 her suspicions in the pretty tissue of earthly and 
 heavenly things held up for her to see. But when 
 at last Eunice was silent, looking soberly down, 
 Miss Jane spoke. 
 
 ' And so there are no berries for me today, Mid- 
 get?' 
 
 ' No ma'am. I'm so sorry, Miss Jane ! But 
 mother said it was too wet for me to pick, and 
 that the berries would be too wet to be good.' 
 
 ' Of course she must be right,' said Miss Jane. 
 ' But why didn't you bring your basket ? ' 
 
 'My basket :' said Eunice, looking up in sur- 
 prise. ' Why I had nothing to put in it, ma'am.' 
 
 ' But you brought it yesterday. What did you 
 have yesterday ?' 
 
 'Yesterday?' Eunice repeated; — 'why noth- 
 ing, Miss Jane. Those children got 'em all. 
 that wasn't my fruit basket ! ' —
 
 288 CROSS ^CVRNERS. 
 
 'Never mind what it was,' said Miss Jane. 
 ' What I ask is, why didn't you bring it today ? ' 
 
 Eunice coloured. 
 
 ' Mother wanted something yesterday,' she said. 
 
 'And she does not today ?' said Miss Jane with 
 a keen look. 
 
 'No ma'am. Not that.' 
 
 • Well what did she want yesterday ? ' 
 
 Eunice hesitated, looking down. 
 
 ' You know, Midget,' said Miss Jane, ' I told 
 you to come to me whenever your motner wanted 
 anything. So when you came yesterday, and 1 
 was out, why didn't you bring the basket again 
 today?' 
 
 'The basket ? To you?' said the little girl with 
 a wondering look. ' it wasn't for you at all, 
 Miss Jane. It wasn't anything you could do. O 
 did you think I brought the basket for tltat ? ' 
 Eunice flushed high now, and her head came up 
 very straight indeed. ' Well I didn't; — so you 
 needn't think so any more, Miss Jane.' 
 
 k For what ? ' said Miss Jane, watching her. 
 ' Your mother wanted something, and you brought 
 a basket, and I was out. Now today I am in.' 
 
 ' You might just as well be out today,' — said 
 Eunice, Bpeaking fast and her voice getting rather
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 289 
 
 choked as she went on. ' It wasn't anything you 
 could do.' 
 
 4 Now Midget,' said Miss Jane gravely, ' you are 
 quite too little a person to make such large a state- 
 ment as that. I make no doubt I could have done 
 it. And I can still.' 
 
 1 It's done ' — said Eunice. 
 
 4 What is done ? ' 
 
 4 Why Miss Jane,' said Eunice, so pushed and 
 astonished with all this questioning that she threw 
 down her defences, 4 1 think you are very funny ! 
 Mother told me to bring her some shoes to bind, as 
 I went home, and I did, — that's all. Only,' Eunice 
 went on, and now her eyes went down and her 
 voice grew very husky indeed : ' only — I did think 
 —that if you made the basket full of other things, 
 — as you know you do sometimes, Miss Jane; — 
 then there wouldn't be room enough for the shoes. 
 And I hate them, — and so I'd have been glad. 
 But that wasn't mother. Nor the basket. It was 
 just me. And I didn't bring the basket for that, — 
 only I had it when I came to tell you about the 
 berries.' 
 
 Miss Jane was like herself in a minute. 
 
 * Poor little Midget ! ' she said, stooping down to 
 kiss the child,—' I think I am rather funny. What 
 
 19
 
 290 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 is the matter with the shoes, that you don't like 
 them ? ' 
 
 ' It's such ugly work for mother,' said Eunice 
 with a smothered sob, ' and it's hard too. And I 
 hate to go to Mr. Vamp's. And he don't pay much, 
 anyhow.' 
 
 ' Then why does your mother do it ? ' 
 
 ' she can't get anything else to do,' said Eunice 
 sighing. ' I wanted her to wait — but then you 
 see Mr. Grab is sure to come on the very day. I 
 don't suppose,' said Eunice, with a face of deep 
 consideration, 'that ten hurricanes and six thunder 
 storms would keep him away.' Miss Jane laughed. 
 
 • Midget,' she said, 'you are just a little goose. 
 Will you ever learn that I know a great deal more 
 than you do, about everything? I told you to 
 come to me, and you didn't come, — and so you've 
 had all this trouble. Now see here.' 
 
 Miss Jane jumped up and wenl to one of her 
 many drawers and took out a strip of scarlet satin, 
 on which were stamped vines and leaves and flow- 
 ers in very pretty confusion, and with it a bunch 
 of soft embroidery silks, — black, white, green, 
 yellow, purple and blue. 
 
 ' ThiR won't hurt her fingers,' she said. ' Can 
 your mother do such work, Midget?'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 291 
 
 ' O she can do all sorts of work ! ' cried Eunice^ 
 her eyes sparkling at sight of the pretty colours 
 and silky threads. ' Miss Jane, that's perfectly 
 lovely ! ' 
 
 ' Well take it along, then,' said Miss Jane ; * and 
 tell her there's plenty more where that came from. 
 And tell her to let the shoes alone.' 
 
 ' I'll tell her the first minute I get home,' said 
 Eunice joyously, watching the white fingers that 
 rolled up the coloured silks ; ' but I know she won't 
 let those she's got alone, till they're done.' 
 
 This was the beginning of very velvety days for 
 Eunice. One pretty piece of work followed anoth- 
 er to the little cottage ; to be exquisitely wrought 
 out and speedily sent home. For Mrs. Keith had 
 wonderful skill in all sorts of needle work, and 
 Miss Jane kept her hands full ; — it paid much 
 better than the shoe binding, and was far pleasant- 
 er to do. And it became one of Eunice's great 
 delights to watch her mother's deft fingers; as with 
 shining silks or soft white thread — or perhaps with 
 many-coloured wools — they wrought out the pat- 
 tern on silk or muslin or canvass, as Miss Jane's 
 fancy or needs demanded. Eunice had a new, very 
 dainty, little basket now, in which to carry the 
 pretty things to and from Cross Corners; and
 
 2«J2 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 sometimes she was allowed to wind a skein, and 
 sometimes to hold; and once even to hem down 
 the edge of a piece of canvass. Then of course she 
 must be housekeeper; — and as the little girl sagely 
 remarked, 'it was worth while to keep house, when 
 you had something to keep house with.' And if 
 some rougher little jobs than usual now came into 
 her hands, yet Eunice did not mind; for of course 
 her mother's fingers must be kept smooth to man- 
 age the embroidery silk. Eunice was very happy 
 in these days; and her cheeks plumped out in a 
 way that did her mother's heart good to see.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 It was not very long after the downfall of the 
 swallows, that Eunice came in one afternoon in a 
 great state of agitation. 
 
 'Mother,' she said, 'my little pussy is very 
 sick. She's been running round, and round, and 
 round, — and now she just lies still and don't move 
 at all.' 
 
 4 Poor little pussy ! ' said Mrs. Keith : ' she must 
 have had a fit. But kittens often do, Eunice; and 
 generally they come out of them all right.' 
 
 ' Well I think she's coming out all wrong,' said 
 Eunice with a heavy sigh. 'Isn't there anything 
 we can do, mother ? There— just hear her ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Keith laid aside her work, and went out to 
 see the kitten, which was sitting up again now, 
 and mewing most pitifully. But as soon as Eu- 
 nice came near, the cat started away and crept 
 under the house, where they could hear her mew- 
 ing louder than ever. 
 
 (293)
 
 21J4 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 '0 dear, dear!' said Eunice: 'whatever shall 
 we do now! She'll just smother in there.' 
 
 ' no she will not,' said Mrs. Keith, — ' she's been 
 there often before, after mice. And it's dark and 
 cool and quiet; just what a cat likes when she has 
 had a fit.' 
 
 ' But I can't see her, and I can't help her ! ' said 
 Eunice. 
 
 'You couldn't help her, love,' said the mother 
 with a siffh. ' There is not often much to be done 
 for a sick animal, except to let it alone and see 
 that nothing troubles it. And nothing wall trouble 
 little pussy there. Come, love, — I must go back 
 to my work.' 
 
 ' Well I don't see why she didn't come in here,' 
 said Eunice with a sob. 'It would have been a 
 great comfort to watch her and see how she is.' 
 
 Mrs. Keith thought she knew better, but she 
 did not say so. 
 
 ' Pussy likes it this way best, Eunice. Animals 
 like to hide away when they are sick.' 
 
 'I wonder why,' said Eunice, standing at her 
 mother's knee and watching her mother's swift 
 fingers. ' And you go on making those red pop- 
 pies, just as if there wasn't anything the matter! ' 
 
 1 Child, I must, 1 said the mother gently.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 295 
 
 4 O yes, — I suppose you must,' said Eunice with 
 another long-drawn sigh. ' Mother — what shall 1 
 do if my little pussy doesn't get well ? ' 
 
 But now Mrs. Keith laid her work quite aside, 
 and drew her sorrowing little daughter upon her 
 lap and into her arms. She didn't say a word; 
 and there was such comfort in the clasp of those 
 two arms, that Eunice was silent too at first; un- 
 til a great hot tear dropped down upon her fore- 
 head, and was followed by another to see after the 
 first. Then the little girl started up. 
 
 ' O mother, do you really care about pussy ? ' 
 she cried. 'O I shouldn't have said that about 
 the poppies ! — and 1 didn't mean it, either, much.' 
 And Eunice kissed and caressed and stroked the 
 face that bent over her, as if she could not do 
 enough to make amends. 
 
 Mrs. Keith answered the caresses, but not the 
 speech, for a while : those five words had some- 
 how wrung her heart. " What shall I do, if — " 
 her darling had said. Many a time had Mrs. 
 Keith faced that question for herself, and now this 
 little one in her arms must learn it too. 
 
 ' You see it makes it all different if you care,' 
 Eunice went on, trying to break up the silence. 
 And then Mrs. Keith found her voice.
 
 296 CXOSS COKNEXS. 
 
 4 Yes, love, it makes it all different. And that 
 is just what 1 want my child to learn, and remem- 
 ber, and never forget.' 
 
 4 1 won't forget — now I know it,' said Eunice. 
 4 But I didn't ever think you cared much about 
 pussy.' 
 
 4 Not quite so much as you do, perhaps; but 1 
 care about you; — and so I love everything that 
 you love.' 
 
 4 She's such a nice little pussy,' said Eunice, 
 her lip beginning to tremble again. 4 O mother, 
 what shall I do if she dies ! — Don't you think 
 I'd better go right out again and see where she 
 is?' 
 
 4 No, 1 think you had better sit still and talk to 
 me. There — put your head down on my shoulder, 
 and I'll tell you about a little dog I had when I 
 was just about as old as you.' 
 
 4 A little dog? — I never knew you had a little 
 dog,' said Eunice, making herself very comforta- 
 ble to hear the story. 
 
 ' I had a little dog, that I loved certainly as 
 well as yon love the kitten. He was given to me 
 first when he was a puppy and I a small child; 
 ami so we grew up together. The puppy went 
 everywhere where I went; slept in my lap, or
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 297 
 
 made himself into a pillow for my head, if I took 
 the fancy.' 
 
 4 1 wish I'd seen you ! ' said Eunice, her eyes 
 shining. ' But I don't see how you grew up to- 
 gether ; — you haven't got him now — and you 
 haven't had, since I've known you.' 
 
 ' You see I grew up a little while before you 
 knew me,' said Mrs. Keith, smiling down at her; 
 'and I had my little dog then. And he was a 
 dear little dog, — as full of love and sense as he was 
 of fun; and that is saying a great deal. I can't 
 begin to tell all the queer things he would do.' 
 
 ' You might begin — ' Eunice suggested. 
 
 'Well, for one thing — he was very fond of cov- 
 ering himself up for a nap, and he would do it so 
 completely, that you could never guess there was 
 any little dog about. I remember once a deep 
 basket full of old cotton cloth had been set in the 
 dining room ; and there Sulky hid away. I called 
 and called, and at last there was a little stir under 
 the cotton, and out jumped Sulky. He came and 
 stood in the doorway, looking at me, in such a 
 funny, waiting attitude ; — -just as if he had said — 
 ' There — you see I'm here, all right. Just look at 
 me and make sure; and please be quick, for I want 
 to finish my nap.' '
 
 298 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 • how lovely ! ' cried Eunice, sitting straight 
 up. ' And what did you do ? ' 
 
 ' I spoke to him, a word or two, just to let him 
 know I saw and understood ; and then he trotted 
 off at once to the basket, jumped in, and in anoth- 
 er minute you couldn't see even the tip of his tail.' 
 
 'Well, I should think you would have just loved 
 him to death,' said Eunice, putting her head down 
 again. 
 
 ' I loved him very much. And so when anybody 
 spoke of my losing him, I used to fire up and get 
 excited just as you do, Eunice.' 
 
 'Did you?' said Eunice. 'Then I must be a 
 little bit like you. Well that's nice. But what 
 did they talk of your losing him for ? ' 
 
 ' I had an uncle who was very fond of teasing 
 everybody, and me in particular. So he would 
 look at my little dog's teeth, and pretend that he 
 was a great deal older than 1 thought, — and then 
 he would say that dogs never live long, anyway.' 
 
 ' But they do, don't they ?' said Eunice. 4 Why 
 Davy says Farmer Dickson's dog is sixteen years 
 old.' 
 
 ' Yes, and my grandfather's dog was fifteen/ said 
 Mrs. Keith; 'and so I told Uncle Simon. But he 
 only laughed ai me, and said that fifteen was a
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 299 
 
 great age till you were seventeen yourself, and 
 then it didn't seem much. And my dog would die 
 young. So he got me all worked up, Eunice, — and I 
 rushed away into the house, where mother sat rock- 
 ing the baby.' Mrs. Keith paused, as the sweet 
 old visions came up before her eyes. 
 
 ' That was my grandmother,' said Eunice, on 
 whom the visions cast no shadow. 
 
 'Yes. I rushed in and told her all that Uncle 
 Simon had said. And then I cried out — just as 
 you did Eunice — ' mother, what should I do if 
 Sulky died ! — ' Again the speaker was silent a 
 moment. 
 
 ' I shall never forget,' she went on, with a slight 
 tremour in her voice, ' how mother looked at me. 
 She had wonderful eyes, Eunice, and they had been 
 fixed on the sleeping baby till I came in ; but now 
 they looked round at me, and they were brimming 
 full of tears. 'Sweet,' she answered slowly, 'just 
 where we say, What if ? — just there the will of 
 God comes in. It is always, The Lord gave, and the 
 Lord hath taken.' — ' But oh/ I cried out in a sort 
 of despair, ' do you think he would ever take away 
 my little dog ? ' — ' Sometime — ' she answered gen- 
 tly. ' And other things, Sweet, that you love better 
 yet. "And who shall say unto him, What doest
 
 300 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 thou ? "— " He giveth not account of any of his 
 matters." " 
 
 1 But that don't make it easy,' said Eunice with 
 a deep sigh. ' That's just what you can't help.' 
 
 4 No, you must love him and trust him till you 
 can answer: "It is the Lord; let him do what 
 seemeth him good."' 
 
 4 Did my grandmother always call you 4 Sweet,' ' 
 Eunice inquired. 
 
 ' Generally.' 
 
 ' Well I don't wonder,' said the child with an 
 energetic hug, ' because you're so sweet now. But 
 why did you call the dog Sulky ? ' 
 
 'By way of contrast,' said Mrs. Keith smiling; 
 ' for there was no more sulkiness about that little 
 creature than there is about clear sunshine.' 
 
 4 you love him a good deal yet,' said Eunice 
 contentedly. 'That's nice, too. But then you did 
 lose him ? ' she added with a sudden recollection. 
 4 Because we haven't got him now.' 
 
 4 Yes, I lost him, — he was killed. One of our 
 neighbours driving into town in a great hurry one 
 morning, ran over him.' 
 
 Eunice sat up again, her eyes growing big. 
 
 ' Oh ! Oh ! ' she cried. ' What a wicked, careless 
 man ! Ah. poor dear little Sulky! () mother, didn't
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 301 
 
 you cry very much ? ' — and Eunice began to cry 
 
 herself. 
 
 ' I didn't cry at first/ said Mrs. Keith : ' it is not 
 always the worst pain that cries. But love, 1 don't 
 want to talk of the sorrow, but of the comfort.' 
 
 ' Well wait,' said Eunice jumping down, — 'just 
 wait a minute, — I must go and look at my pussy.' 
 
 She was gone a few moments, and came back, 
 her breast heaving. 
 
 ' I don't believe she's alive ! ' she said. ' I guess 
 she's dead ! mother, won't you come and see ? ' 
 
 With a sigh Mrs. Keith rose up, and followed 
 the sorrowing child, and stooped down and looked 
 under the porch at the kitten. The little thing 
 had come nearer the front now, within reach, but 
 she lay stretched out, quite still and quiet. Yes, 
 Mrs. Keith felt sure she was dead. It was peace 
 and happiness, compared with the wild agony of 
 the fit she had been in; but the mother did not 
 say that. She sat down on the doorstep and took 
 Eunice in her arms again, and let the child sob 
 and cry and look at her kitten by turns, till the 
 first rush of the flood was over. Then she began 
 to talk slowly and softly, her hand giving gentle 
 touches to the young head bearing its weight of 
 sorrow.
 
 302 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 'When my little Sulky was killed, Eunice, 1 
 wouldn't hear anything anybody said, at first. 
 They told me— all sorts of things,' said Mrs. Keith; 
 — 4 that it couldn't be helped, — that I would forget 
 it, — that my dog was better off. All those foolish 
 things people said, meaning to comfort me, and 
 really making the pain worse with every word. 
 And I shook them off, and went about like a wild 
 creature, till mother got home, — she had been away 
 with a sick neighbour. I couldn't eat, I wouldn't 
 talk, I couldn't cry; and people's words just perse- 
 cuted me. But when mother came — ' and now 
 .Mrs. Keith's voice grew unsteady, and she paused. 
 ' 1 can see it all now as the wagon drove up ; and 
 how her face changed as she got out, and they 
 told her. And she just ran to meet me, Eunice, 
 pulling off her gloves and bonnet and tossing them 
 aside as she came; and stooped down by me, and 
 \\ rapped her arms round me, with the tears drop- 
 ping all down her own dear face. 'O Sweet !' she 
 cried, ' the Lord cares ! ' And then, Eunice, my 
 tears came, like a summer torrent. My heart 
 ached, I thought, as if it would break in two; but 
 somehow the bitterness went out of it at those 
 words: "The Lord cares.' — I knew in a minute 
 that it was true, and I knew also that I had been
 
 cross corners. 303 
 
 doubting it. I had thought that the dear Lord 
 could make such an exquisite little living creature, 
 and then forgot it, — not notice whether it was 
 happy, not care whether it lived or died. And of 
 course from that I had gone on to doubt whether 
 he cared about rne, — quite forgetting whose child 
 I was. But the moment mother spoke (whatever 
 she said of the Lord you always felt as if he him- 
 self had told her that very minute) that darkest 
 of clouds cleared quite away. I knew that God 
 loved my little pet, and loved me; and was griev- 
 ed for the little dog's pain and for my sorrow; — and 
 I cannot tell you, Eunice, what comfort it was. I 
 cried my eyes half out, there in mother's arms; 
 but the bitterness was all gone. darling, never 
 forget — whatever happens to you — that the Lord 
 cares ! ' 
 
 Eunice was sobbing quietly now, but she did 
 not answer ; and by and by cried herself quite to 
 sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 It was one of those long looked for opportunities 
 which sometimes come, when David's employer 
 just then being called away on business, David 
 himself had a half holiday; and he and Eunice 
 went off after berries from a distant field. The 
 field was farmer Dickson's, well filled with wheat 
 almost to the fence rails; but in the corners, where 
 the plough could not go, held in close possession 
 mt ill by the original wild owners. Elder bushes 
 and bind weed, elecampane, clematis, and a host 
 of gay flowers, grew tall and strong among the 
 blackberry bushes; — and the blackberry bushes 
 were higher than David's head. And such ber- 
 ries as loaded them down! Lawtons are big 
 (sweet too if ytm let them alone long enough) 
 Kittatinny and Wilson have their merits; but the 
 real wild flavour of sun and soil, gets into no ber- 
 ries I .vcr saw, as it does into those in the corner 
 
 of the harvest fields. And farmer Dickson had 
 (304)
 
 CROSS CORXERS. 305 
 
 bidden David " get Eunice Keith, and come and 
 pick 'em every one." 
 
 It was an afternoon of unqualified delight. Eu- 
 nice chattered as fast as her tongue could run, all 
 the way along the road; and yet did not get 
 near through before they reached the field and 
 began their pretty work. So every now and then, 
 as they went from corner to corner, or when 
 David mounted the fence to be a match for some 
 especially tall blackberry bush, Eunice would sit 
 down on the ground and fan herself with her sun- 
 bonnet, and talk, — or take up her story as they 
 edged along by the exquisite bending grain. 
 
 ' And O Davy,' she said, ' wasn't it a big lesson 
 about forgetting whose child I was ? I first forgot 
 I was mother's, and then I forgot I was God's.' 
 
 4 " Your Father knoweth " — ' David quoted, 
 looking down at her from the top of the fence. 
 4 I've taken those words for a pillow many a time, 
 Eunice Keith.' 
 
 4 For a pillow ! ' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Yes. Laid my heart down on them and gone 
 to sleep. Here small child — catch these.' 
 
 4 Well I guess that was what I did,' said Eunice, 
 skilfully holding up her apron so as to break the 
 fall of a bunch of great blackberries. ' I went to
 
 306 CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 sleep, too. But I think I took the other words for 
 a pillow, Davy; — " He careth for you." 
 
 'They're not far apart,' said David, smiling at 
 her: David did not often smile, but it was wonder- 
 fully pleasant when he did. 'For God to kn 
 and for God to care, are pretty much one and the 
 same thing.' 
 
 ' But Davy,' said the little girl, gazing up at him, 
 ' I did go to sleep, but after I waked up I felt 'most 
 as bad as ever. It's so lonely without my kitten ! ' — 
 The eyes came down in a flush of tears. 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said David, ' I daresay. But the Lord 
 knows all about that too, Eunice Keith. How 
 many storms do you suppose these blackberry bush- 
 es had to go through, before they could bear such 
 fruit as this ? ' — and David tossed her down another 
 great cluster. 
 
 1 Aren't they splendid ? ' said Eunice. 'I'll take 
 this bunch home to mother.' 
 
 ' No, you're to eat that yourself,' said David. 
 ' I've got a bigger one yet for her. Shall I find you 
 another kitten, small child?' 
 
 ' No, I think not,' said Eunice with one of her 
 long sighs. ' It wouldn't be my own dear little 
 pussy, you know, I >avy.' 
 
 David picked on for a few moments in silence.
 
 CA'OSS CORNERS. 307 
 
 ' What did you do with the swallow's nest? ' he 
 inquired suddenly. 
 
 'The swallow's nest? ' said Eunice, rather aston- 
 ished that anybody should be thinking of swallows 
 while she was talking of her cat. ' it's at home. 
 I kept it, because it was so queer, and because 
 mother said such nice things about it.' 
 
 ' Well if I were you,' said David, — ' now you 
 haven't the cat to look after, — if I were you, small 
 child, I'd set up a collection.' 
 
 ' A collection ? ' cried Eunice, her eyes growing 
 very big and bright; — 'O Davy, what do you 
 mean ? ' 
 
 David jumped down from his perch on the fence, 
 and came round to the lower picking, leading the 
 way to another corner. 
 
 ' I mean collecting a whole lot of queer things,' 
 he said : ' you know you called the swallows' nests 
 ' queer.' Well, pick up all the queer things you 
 can find, and put 'em by ; and then in time, small 
 child, you'll have a collection.' 
 
 ' But I never find any queer things,' said Eu- 
 nice. 'The swallows' nest just tumbled down.' 
 
 ' Plenty of other things will tumble down, as soon 
 as you begin to watch for them,' said David. ' I've 
 got a few myself, that I'll give you to start with.'
 
 308 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Davy, how beautiful ! ' said Eunice, getting 
 hold of his hand and swinging it back and forth 
 in her excitement. ' Davy, you're just the dearest 
 boy in the whole world. Though I do think 
 you're queer too,' she added honestly. David 
 laughed a little. 
 
 ' Well you can't pick me up,' he said, — ' Miss 
 Jane has taken that in hand. I'm bound to go in- 
 to her collection, small child.' 
 
 ' Now ? soon?' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Next week. She says she won't wait any 
 longer; and so she's settled it her own way with 
 farmer Dickson.' 
 
 ' She always settles things her own way, I 
 think,' said Eunice. ' But oh, Davy, when I get 
 my collection, what shall I keep it in ?' 
 
 'True,' said David: ' queer things must have a 
 house to live in. Well by the time you get half a 
 dozen together, I daresay I'll find odd minutes 
 enough to knock you up some sort of a box to 
 hold 'em.' 
 
 ' Davy, Davy ! ' — was all Eunice could say. 
 She went to picking berries as hard as she 
 could, to relieve her feelings. Then she began 
 again. 
 
 4 1 wonder where Miss Jane ia riding,' she
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 309 
 
 remarked. ' She said she would try her new 
 horse today.' 
 
 ' Her new horse ? that black one ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Eunice. ' At least she called him 
 Black Jack.' 
 
 * I wish she had waited till next week/ said 
 David. ' He's a vicious little beast.' 
 
 ' Maybe she'll come this way, and then we can 
 see how he goes,' said Eunice. ' I guess she's 
 coming how, Davy, I hear somebody riding.' 
 
 David started up to listen. 
 
 ' Somebody's riding too fast — ' he said. And 
 then in a second he had tossed down his basket 
 and thrown himself over the fence into the high 
 road. 
 
 Not guessing why he went in such haste, but 
 from pure spirit of sympathy, and a little curious 
 too; Eunice set down her own basket and followed 
 David; — only she crept through the fence, instead 
 of leaping over it. And hardly had she straight- 
 ened herself up again, and quite before she could 
 get near David, down the road at the top of his 
 speed came Black Jack. He was saddled and bri- 
 dled as if all ready for a mount, but nobody was 
 on his back; and the bridle was down over his 
 head, and trailing in the dust.
 
 S10 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 Eunice gave a cry as she saw David spring for- 
 ward to meet the horse, but before it was well out 
 of her lips, he had caught the end of the bridle, 
 and brought the horse to a stand. To a stand 
 on his hind legs at first, it must be owned, — rear- 
 ing, plunging, kicking; — what did not Black Jack 
 do to get away ! But David was very strong, — he 
 had not done farm work so long for nothing; — 
 and he knew about horses, and was skilful too. 
 And so Black Jack presently found out that he 
 had come to the end of his fling, for that time. 
 But David bade Eunice keep her distance still. 
 
 1 But Davy, Davy ! ' cried the little girl, 
 wringing her hands, t where can Miss Jane be ? ' 
 
 • Maybe she hadn't been on yet,' said David. 
 ' See — the bridle was over his head, — so he may 
 just have pulled away from that groom.' David's 
 estimation of the mannerless official was rather 
 low. 
 
 k no ! — no ! ' Eunice said. ' She's been on, 
 — and now she's off! Look, Davy, — there's her 
 little white handkerchief in the saddle pocket.' 
 
 David grew pale at that. He drew Blackjack 
 swiftly along to the fence, and tied him there so 
 securely, that while the bridle held together he 
 could not get away; and then himself set off up
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 311 
 
 the road on the full run. And Eunice followed, as 
 best she could. 
 
 Now the fact was, that Miss Jane was quite safe 
 and unhurt, and had not been thrown at all. She 
 had managed her unruly little horse with great 
 satisfaction to herself and disgust to him, till she 
 came to a wild bit of roadside where there was a 
 tuft of fringed gentian. There are not many peo- 
 ple that can resist fringed gentian, — and Miss 
 Jane never could. So down she jumped, put the 
 bridle over her arm, picked her flowers, and pre- 
 pared to mount. But when it came to that, Black 
 Jack objected. She had had her fun — now he 
 meant to have his. Miss Jane coaxed and scolded, 
 — led him up to the fence, led him up to a rock ; 
 — but mounting blocks lose interest when you 
 don't intend to be mounted, and Black Jack grew 
 stiffer and sulkier, and at last tried his favourite 
 trick of walking on his hind legs and pawing at 
 his companion. And then Miss Jane let go, and 
 Black Jack ran. 
 
 Miss Jane waited for the dust to settle, and then 
 followed leisurely on. But now as she came walk- 
 ing down the road, with her bunch of fringed 
 gentians, a strange sight met her eyes. First, 
 " one running alone," (to quote the old watchman
 
 312 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 in David's time) ; and then far behind him, but 
 keeping manfully on, crying and sobbing as she 
 came, a little girl without even a sunbonnet to 
 cover her head. 
 
 David came to a stand instantly. 
 
 ' Miss Jane !— Oh !— ' 
 
 She saw the boy's eyes glance up, and knew as 
 well as if she had heard it that there was a thanks- 
 giving over her. And then before she could get 
 at the cause of things (for David was well out of 
 breath) little Eunice came panting up; with such 
 a dusty, tear-marked face, as would have been 
 very laughable if it had not been so woe begone. 
 It took a minute or two for the tides to turn in 
 the child's heart; and when she first saw her 
 friend — alive and unhurt — Eunice cried harder 
 than ever. 
 
 ' What in the world are you youngsters about?' 
 said Miss Jane. ' What is the matter ? Is there a 
 consignment of panthers suddenly turned loose on 
 tht: village ? — or are you scurrying away from an 
 invoice of bears ? ' 
 
 4 O — no — we — were — running — ' 
 
 'Well I saw that for myself/ said Miss Jane. 
 -' After you,' — Eunice got out. 
 
 •Not after me, for I was coining this way,' cor-
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 313 
 
 rected Miss Jane. ' Where is that boy going 
 now ? ' — for David had instantly turned back, the 
 moment he knew Miss Jane was safe. 
 
 4 Black Jack is down there,' said Eunice, getting 
 her breath again. ' Davy tied him to the fence. 
 And we thought he'd thrown you off, Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' And so you both ran to pick me up ! ' said Miss 
 Jane. ' Well I declare ! ' — But her eyes filled. 
 
 4 Yes ma'am,' Eunice repeated. ' We thought 
 he had.' 
 
 4 That wouldn't matter,' said Miss Jane lightly, 
 as she stooped down by the child. ' Cheer up, 
 Midget ! I am all right. What if he had ? Peo- 
 ple fall off every day.' 
 
 4 Yes ma'am,' the little girl answered, with a sigh 
 that was almost a sob. 
 
 4 Then what is the matter ? ' repeated Miss Jane, 
 giving her a little shake. 'Don't you see I am not 
 hurt, you foolish Midget ? I didn't even fall off.' 
 
 4 No ma'am — I'm so glad, — ' Eunice said, softly 
 stroking her friend's face with a hand on which, 
 happily, the blackberry juice was quite dry. 4 Poor 
 Miss Jane ! dear Miss Jane ! — But then you said — ' 
 and now the little stained fingers made a pause on 
 Miss Jane's pink and white cheek, — 4 you know 
 you said you were not a Christian, Miss Jane.'
 
 314 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 If the hand had been dripping from the dark 
 berries, I doubt if Miss Jane could have noticed 
 anything, all along, but how it trembled. But now 
 she changed colour, as Eunice's broken train of 
 reasoning came out clear and whole before her eyes ; 
 and taking down the little hand, and keeping it 
 fast in her own, Miss Jane rose to her feet. 
 
 ' I believe you want to pick me up both ways, 1 
 she said. ' Come, let's go and look after Black Jack. 
 He may have run away with David by this time.' 
 
 '0 he couldn't do that,' said Eunice, with a 
 child's delightful ease at changing subjects. ' Davy 
 can do anything with horses.' 
 
 'Can he! — you know he's coining to manage 
 mine, next week.' 
 
 • Yes ma'am. Do you think, Miss Jane, that he'll 
 have lime to make my box after he goes ?' inquired 
 Eunice. ' Some very rainy day ? ' 
 
 'Your box? What box?' 
 
 Eunice explained. But now Miss Jane laugh- 
 ed, laughed till she nearly cried, — at the idea of 
 Eunice turning collector. 
 
 1 I'll make a bargain with you, Midget,' she said. 
 • When you git together one dozen things that are 
 worth Looking at, and shew them to me, I'll give 
 you a box with a glass trout, that will hold them
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 315 
 
 and a dozen more. But I am to judge, you know.' 
 
 ' Twelve things ! ' Eunice cried, with her cheeks 
 aglow. ' And a real box with a glass front ! — O 
 dear Miss Jane, how good you are ! ' — 
 
 ' Not a bit good,' said the young lady promptly. 
 ' You know better. And you haven't got the 
 twelve things yet.' 
 
 ' IVe got one — ' said Eunice. ' And Davy said — 
 O, must I pick 'em all up myself?' 
 
 « Get them any way you like — except stealing,' 
 said Miss Jane. 
 
 ' Because Davy said,' the little girl went on, not 
 heeding this last suggestion, ' that he'd give me a 
 few things himself, — and they would count, you 
 know, Miss Jane.' 
 
 1 Let thein count ! ' said Miss Jane. ' The sooner 
 you get the twelve things together, the sooner I 
 shall have the fun of seeing them. 
 
 And so it was settled. David led Black Jack 
 home, and Miss Jane went clear down to the cot- 
 tage with Eunice, to see Mrs. Keith.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 It takes time, however, to collect even twelve 
 things that are worth seeing; — and in one way it 
 was very good for Eunice that she was to submit 
 them all to Miss Jane's critical eyes, for it made 
 her much more careful what things she picked up. 
 Or rather, what things she put away. Pick up, 
 she did, like most young collectors, in some- 
 what wholesale fashion; but when she thought of 
 putting away to shew to Miss Jane, then Eunice 
 grew much more careful. Everything must be 
 labelled (Miss Jane had insisted upon that) and 
 when it came to writing down: "A little stone 
 I picked up in the road, " — why then Eunice 
 took another good look at the stone itself. Also, 
 as must happen, her own taste and judgment grew 
 with the exercise; and often something which was 
 'perfectly lovely' two weeks ago, was tin's week 
 tossed contemptuously out as 'rubbish ! ' And 
 Eunice had to do it all alone. Mrs. Keith quite 
 
 (316)
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 317 
 
 declined to judge between thing and thing; truly 
 saying that it was not to be her collection ; and even 
 David was rather vague in his advice, and content- 
 ed himself for the most part with a good examining 
 talk over the article in question ; — skilfully throw- 
 ing into relief its good or bad points, so that Eu- 
 nice might see them, if she would, and still judge 
 for herself. 
 
 It is hard to tell what a delight this was. Per- 
 haps nothing could have been better for Eunice 
 just now, than this combined plan of David and 
 Miss Jane. It partly pushed aside the loss of the 
 kitten, and out doors or in, gave Eunice always 
 something delightful to do and to study, and drew 
 on wonderful talks between her and her mother. 
 Often these talks left a little store of questions to 
 be referred to David; who having been all his life 
 an out-of-doors boy, knew a great deal of out-of-door 
 things. They saw a good deal of David in these 
 days: for though Eunice could not now hunt him 
 up in the shoemaker's garden; and though Miss 
 Jane kept him busy; yet she gave him plenty of 
 time for himself, and often sent him to Mrs. Keith's 
 with a message or a roll of work. He had as he 
 promised turned over to Eunice three or four curi- 
 ous or pretty things of his own collecting; but still
 
 318 CA'OSS CORNERS. 
 
 the twelve that Miss Jaue demanded were slow to 
 make up. 
 
 Meantime it was a never ending delight to Eu- 
 nice, to see Miss Jane go by on horseback with 
 David at her heels; and once finding this out, 
 the young lady generally contrived to ride by that 
 way, either going or returning. David was one 
 of those boys to whom ridership comes by nature, 
 and whom all horses understand, and Miss Jane's 
 somewhat skittish little animals improved so much 
 under his wise management, that they were worth 
 as much again. 
 
 Miss Jane was delighted; — and David himself 
 was so pleasant and well-behaved, and so quaintly 
 interesting to the gay young lady, that many a 
 time when she drew bridle after a long swift trot, 
 Miss Jane would call David up alongside of her, 
 and they would talk up one hill and down another, 
 till the next rapid stretch began. 
 
 Eunice always ran to the door when the sharp 
 ring of hoofs came near, kissing her hand impar- 
 tially to both riders ; and Mrs. Keith, bending 
 over her work, gave thanks that all her fears over 
 the buy's early tall, slim growth, and hard work, 
 were set at rest. Brown, David had been before, 
 but now he grew ruddy as well : meals at Cross
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 319 
 
 Corners were very different from Mrs. Crusty s — 
 though in these days it may be said, she would 
 have at least waited for him. 
 
 " When ye need na' their countenance, 
 " A' body kens ye." 
 
 It was a fair day in early October. The riders 
 had just trotted out of sight. Eunice came back 
 with a sigh of pleasure — which was not quite all 
 pleasure — to the little round table within. Mrs. 
 Keith was at the moment at work upon a ' splash- 
 er,' outlining a very vigourous party of ducks that 
 were disporting themselves in every possible posi- 
 tion. Eunice stood watching her. 
 
 ' David said,' she remarked, ' that if the Lord 
 wanted him to be a minister, he would send the 
 shoes, — now the shoes have come, mother, do you 
 suppose he'll be a minister ? ' 
 
 'It does not exactly follow,' said Mrs. Keith, 
 ' but I should not be surprised.' 
 
 ' Then he'd go away ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 Eunice stood thinking. 
 
 4 Mother,' she began again, « will Miss Jane come 
 here again next summer ?' 
 
 • I do not believe she knows, herself, Eunice.'
 
 320 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 1 1 wonder what we shall do if she don't ! ' said 
 the little girl, rather drearily. 
 
 ' And / wonder,' said Mrs. Keith, skilfully work- 
 ing in the feathers of a duck's tail, ' whether my 
 child is learning to depend on Miss Jane too 
 much ? ' 
 
 ' I daresay I am — you know that's the way I 
 do things,' said Eunice with an impatient breath. 
 4 Mother, are we going to have any Thanksgiving 
 this year ? ' 
 
 • /am having it, every day,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 ' Yes, of course — but you know what I mean,' 
 said Eunice. ' I mean a real Thanksgiving dinner, 
 on Thanksgiving day.' 
 
 ' We'll try to have it ' real,' whatever it is, when 
 the day comes,' said Mrs. Keith. ' But sit down 
 here Eunice, and hem this bit of stuff for me, and 
 I'll tell you a Thanksgiving story. A story of a 
 Thanksgiving dinner in my great, great grand- 
 father's house.' 
 
 'Was it this house?' said Eunice, seating her- 
 selfin high glee, with the clouds all cleared away. 
 'No indeed, — nor in this part of the country. 
 And the place where it stood was very wild, in 
 the deep forest. You think this house is too 
 email, Eunice, for just you and me ; but that other
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 321 
 
 little house in the clearing had but one room, all 
 told, and that was anything but large.' 
 
 ' One room ? dear me ! ' said Eunice. ' But 
 then I suppose your great, great, grandfather 
 didn't want much, just for himself.' 
 
 ' Not for himself. But he had a wife, and I 
 don't know how many children.' 
 
 ' Ever so many children ! ' cried Eunice. ' And 
 one room ! ' Well if any of 'em were like me, 
 they must have growled and grumbled enough.' 
 
 ' I do not know what the children did,' said Mrs. 
 Keith, ' but I am quite sure the father and mother 
 did not growl and grumble. There is a certain 
 proverb which sometimes makes a little room look 
 very big. " It is better to dwell in a corner of the 
 housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide 
 house." And so when my great, great, grand- 
 father looked at his busy, patient, little wife, he 
 must have felt that his " corner of the housetop " 
 was quite a large place, since it held so much that 
 was so very precious.' 
 
 ' Then I suppose she had another proverb to 
 help out the dinner — ' said Eunice, with a little 
 gesture of her head over the white canvass. 
 
 ' I make no doubt of it,' said Mrs. Keith smiling. 
 • This, Eunice, for instance. " Better little with the 
 
 21
 
 322 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 fear of the Lord, than great treasure and trouble 
 therewith." Or this: " Better a dinner of herbs, 
 where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred there- 
 with." — What the Lord sends, is always 'better'— 
 and never worse — than anything else.' 
 
 k Well — ' said Eunice with a tone that half grant- 
 ed, half denied, the fact. ' I don't like a dinner of 
 herbs myself, — but I'm glad they enjoyed it. 
 What sort of herbs did they have? ' 
 
 ' 1 am not sure that I can tell you all. Cresses 
 doubtless grew by the spring, and probably pepper 
 grass by the roadside. They would help to season 
 dry bread, as we know. Then there must have 
 been wild greens of many sorts fit for cooking: 
 dandelions, dock, and poke weed, and young milk- 
 weed shoots, and the wild ranunculus; — with 
 sassafras buds for tea.' 
 
 Eunice drew her eyebrows together very disap- 
 provingly. 
 
 ' But I suppose they had something else too ? ' 
 she said. 
 
 'After a while, the father of the house, with much 
 hard labour, cleared a bit of ground where he 
 could plant corn and potatoes.' 
 
 'Cleared it?'6aid Eunice: 'cleared away the 
 weeds ? '
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 323 
 
 ' Cleared away the forest. For it was all forest 
 when they went there; and my great, great, grand- 
 father cut down the trees in his clearing and 
 stacked the wood, and burned off the brush. The 
 stumps of the great trees had to be left where they 
 stood; and the ploughing and planting had to 
 be clone in between. The father did all that ; and 
 the mother took care of the children, the cow, the 
 pig, the cooking, the mending, and everything else 
 there was to do.' 
 
 ' Well I should say, that was hard work,' Eunice 
 remarked, hemming her canvass with the air of one 
 whose work is easv. 
 
 ' Very hard. Too hard perhaps,' said Mrs. 
 Keith with a sigh ; ' for the father took sick and 
 died, and then the mother had to struggle on 
 alone.' 
 
 ' Not there, in the woods?' said Eunice. 
 
 ' There, in the woods. She had no money to go 
 anywhere else.' 
 
 ' But who ploughed and planted for her ? ' said 
 Eunice. 
 
 ' Her own two hands managed it all, with only 
 such help as the children could give. Out doors 
 and indoors, all the labour now came upon her.' 
 
 ' I don't see why in the world she didn't die too,'
 
 324 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 said Eunice. 'Don't it ever kill people to get so 
 tired ? ' 
 
 ' Sometimes. But every day, in the midst of all 
 her hard work, my great, great, grandmother took 
 one thorough rest.' 
 
 '0, did she ! ' said Eunice. ' Well of course that 
 alters the case. But I don't see how she found 
 time.' 
 
 ' She found it as one has to do for a must-Jiavt ,' 
 said Mrs. Keith: 'she took it. Every day, Eunice, 
 no matter how busy she was, — and no matter how 
 tired; whether crops were waiting, or weeds were 
 growing; — every day the lonely little mother sat 
 down with her children round her, to read and talk 
 over four chapters of the Bible. Whether she did 
 it at one time or at two, I do not know; but even- 
 day it was done.' 
 
 'And that rested her — ' said Eunice. 
 
 'As nothing else could.' 
 
 'Yes, — I understand now how she came to be 
 your great grandmother,' said Eunice, with one of 
 her Bage looks. ' Did she teach 'em other things 
 too ? ' 
 
 • I think there was no time for that. But after 
 a while, as the children grew old enough, they 
 were sent to school for some months every year.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 325 
 
 It was a little bit of a schoolhouse, four miles 
 away; and they had to go on bare feet through 
 the brush to get there.' 
 
 ' And then when they were all off,' said Eunice, 
 ' your great grandmother must have had a fine 
 time to do up the work.' 
 
 ' I don't know — ' said Mrs. Keith : ' sometimes 
 when I think of it, I wonder how she could work 
 at all. But she must have learned to pray as she 
 worked, and work as she prayed. For there were 
 Indians in those woods, Eunice; and wolves, and 
 bears; — and I suppose that just the mother's pray- 
 ers carried the children safe through. She put 
 them all in the Lord's hand, every morning: and 
 whatever is trusted to him is well kept. So you 
 must think of the children trooping off through 
 the forest, and a convoy of unseen angels about 
 them all the way. And the little mother looking 
 after them from the door. I think she must have 
 often turned back to her work, saying to herself: 
 " I know whom I have believed, and am persuad- 
 ed that he is able to keep that which I have com- 
 mitted to him." ' 
 
 Eunice had dropped her work, and was gazing 
 up at her mother with eyes that now slowly over- 
 flowed.
 
 32G CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Jusl like you ! ' — she remarked, tossing off the 
 tears and picking- up her canvass again. '1 hope 
 they had something better to eat than herbs, when 
 they got home.' 
 
 'They had potatoes and milk sometimes; and 
 sometimes corn mush and maple syrup, — and after 
 the pig was killed in the fall, there was now and 
 then a slice of pork for dinner. With plenty of the 
 best cold water to drink, and plenty of berries in 
 the summer, and plenty of nuts in the winter.' 
 
 'Maple syrup is lovely,' said Eunice; 'but I 
 never sJiall like mush.' 
 
 'They did; and they grew strong and healthy 
 and hearty as pine knots. Lessons were learned 
 well; and really, the thing they wished for most, 
 was more books to read. They had very few 
 books; and could only read those over and over 
 and over again. I must own, however, that 
 Thanksgiving day tried them a little, as it some- 
 times does you, Eunice.' 
 
 ' Well it does, 1 said Eunice, dropping her work 
 again and folding her hands round her knees: 
 'there is not the hast doubt about that. I know 
 you always keep it, just as if there were half a 
 dozen turkeys and ten pumpkin pies, — but I like 
 to see things look thankful, for my part.'
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 327 
 
 'So when it came to be the day before Thanksgiv- 
 ing, one year,' Mrs. Keith went on, smiling at her, 
 ' the boys put their heads together to see what they 
 could do. There were no friends to invite, and 
 none to invite them : still there were enough in 
 the little clearing to eat a big ' Thanksgiving din- 
 ner,' if it could be had, and the two boys took the 
 old gun and marched off into the deep woods.' 
 
 ' Did they know how to shoot? ' Eunice asked. 
 
 ' O yes, — at least they knew how to fire the gun, 
 so as to scare away the hawks, or any bear or fox 
 or wolf that came to make acquaintance with 
 the family ; — and a few times I think they had really 
 hit a squirrel or a wild pigeon. A long distance 
 from the clearing where the house stood, there was 
 another open spot — a little meadow — where once 
 the beavers had built a dam ; set right in the midst 
 of the woods, and with very big trees all round it. 
 There was a lovely little pool of water here, and 
 fresh green grass ; and the boys knew that the wild 
 game of the woods liked the place, and would come 
 there to eat and to drink and to sun themselves. 
 So they marched on and on till they drew near the 
 meadow ; and then crept softly along under the big 
 trees till they could peep out and see what might 
 be there.'
 
 .{28 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Suppose there had been Indians ? ' said Eunice. 
 
 ' Probably then the boys would have crept back 
 again, and afterwards run for their lives,' said Mrs. 
 Keith. 'But there were no Indians there today, 
 when the boys looked out from behind the trees, 
 hardly daring to breathe lest they should frighten 
 the game away. And as careful as they were, five 
 deer that were feeding in the meadow heard them 
 or smelt them, and went off like the wind into the 
 thicket.' 
 
 * W hat a pity ! ' said Eunice. ' Five deer ! — ' 
 
 ' I doubt if the boys could have shot them, even 
 if the pretty things had waited a little,' said Mrs. 
 Keith. 'But the deer were not all. Some wild 
 ducks were swimming and diving in the pool; and 
 on the green grass was a small flock of wild 
 turkevs.' 
 
 ' Wild turkeys ! ' cried Eunice : ' wild turkeys ? 
 Why I never heard of such a thing.' 
 
 ' You never saw such a thing, either,' said Mrs. 
 Keith: ' wild turkeys are three or four times as big 
 as the tame ones; and one of these was a gobbler, 
 and very big indeed. The boys consulted for a 
 minute, under their breath, what was best to do. 
 There would be no chance for a second shot; tor 
 the birds would fly away, the minute they heard
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 329 
 
 the gun. The elder boy took the old firearm, 
 raised it to his shoulder; looked steadily along 
 the ' sights' till the big gobbler was in view, and 
 fired. And in one minute the ducks had dived 
 and hid, the turkey hens had taken flight, and the 
 gobbler lay dead on the green grass.' 
 
 'Well done, boys ! ' said Eunice. 'The biggest 
 of the flock ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, and he was very big ; weighing perhaps 
 thirty pounds. So the next question was how to 
 get him home. How do you think they did ? ' 
 
 ' Dragged him ?' Eunice suggested. 
 
 ' Dear me, no ! There would not be much left of 
 even a thirty-pound turkey, that was dragged so 
 far through the bush. No: they remembered in 
 their mother's big Bible a picture of the spies, car- 
 rying home a specimen bunch of grapes from the 
 Promised Land; and they tried that plan. They 
 tied the turkey's legs together, chose a long, stout 
 stick of the many that lay about; swung their game 
 on it; and then, each boy with one end of the stick 
 resting on his shoulder, they marched home.' 
 
 ' How smart they were ! ' said Eunice. ' Why 1 
 never should have thought of the spies — if I'd 
 had twenty turkeys to carry.' 
 
 ' When the boys came to the edge of their own
 
 330 CROSS CORKERS. 
 
 clearing, they gave a great shout; and out came 
 the mother and the girls to see what was the mat- 
 ter; — and who iiiade most noise then, I do not 
 know; but probably the boys.' 
 
 ' The girls must have had a fine time picking 
 the turkey,' said Eunice. 
 
 'Yes indeed. And what do you think the boys 
 did next? They went oft' into a swamp and gath- 
 ered cranberries enough to match such a big tur- 
 key.' 
 
 ' Cranberries too ! ' said Eunice, — and Mrs. 
 Keith thought she heard a little sigh. ' Mother, 
 how did they cook their turkey ? Mrs. Crusty 'a 
 stove wouldn't hold it.' 
 
 ' O they had no stoves, Eunice, in those days, — 
 only a big open wood lire. Things to roast were 
 stuck up on a stick in front of it, sometimes, if 
 they were small; or hunt;- up by a string, and 
 turned slowly round and round, as you roast ap- 
 ples. But it must have taken a rope to hold that 
 turkey.' 
 
 4 And they must have kept Thanksgiving for a 
 week or two, 1 said Eunice. 'Who staid home 
 from church to watch the turkey ?' 
 
 'There was no church, and no church service, in 
 all that region. They had church at home; — put-
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 331 
 
 ting by their work, dressing in clean frocks and 
 jackets; and then singing and praying and read- 
 ing the Bible together, and giving thanks.' 
 
 ' And then they had their dinner — ' said Eunice. 
 4 Mother, I wish I could see 'em for just one min- 
 ute; — all dressed up and sitting round the fire, 
 and turning the turkey between the verses of the 
 hymns.'
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 In a world so very full of queer things as is this 
 world wherein we live, it would seem to be an 
 easy task to get twelve queer things together; — 
 and yet Eunice found that it took her a longtime. 
 To be sure they were to be inspected by Miss Jane 
 — and Miss Jane was a very critical person, and 
 had seen ' so much,' as Eunice remarked. There 
 was no telling what she would think worthy of a 
 real carpenter-made box with a glass front. 
 
 So, like most other collectors I suppose, Eunice 
 an 1 said, put in — and put out — of her little assort- 
 ment; bringing home something in triumph to- 
 day, which tomorrow found an ignominious home 
 in the ashes. 
 
 You know I told you she grew critical herself, 
 too: learning day by day how to look at things, — 
 how to look into them ; and not merely be taken 
 with an outside show. For collecting, is an ex- 
 tremely pretty bil of education. 
 f33^
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 333 
 
 But dear me ! what did she not ' collect,' in 
 those first weeks ? Milkweed pods just bursting 
 open, odd knobby bits of wood, snail shells, wasp 
 nests, and a dead beetle. Mrs. Keith looked at 
 everything as it came in and answered all ques- 
 tions; but would take no responsibility as to re- 
 sults. 
 
 ' It is to be your collection — ' she told Eunice. 
 ' You must judge for yourself what is really worth 
 putting in a case.' And some days Eunice thought 
 nothing was worth such distinction, — and some 
 days, everything ; — so that she kept the little cot- 
 tage in a lively state of mind. 
 
 One thing her mother insisted on, and that was, 
 order. Or perhaps I should rather say, orderli- 
 ness. Eunice had a drawer wherein to bestow her 
 selected things ; — and then she might make all the 
 muss she liked on the floor or the table, — examin- 
 ing, sorting, preparing, — provided always that 
 she cleared the muss away. 
 
 ' People should never make their pleasure a nui- 
 sance to anybody else,' Mrs. Keith said. ' There 
 is no reason in the world why collectors should 
 not be just as tidy as other people. So if you are 
 not sure what you will keep, Eunice, of all that 
 basketful of things, study them as long and as often
 
 334 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 as you like, but keep them in the basket between 
 whiles. You can do nothing well and successful- 
 ly in this world, without taking the needful trou- 
 ble.' 
 
 ' It's a great deal of trouble I have to take ! ' 
 said the little girl, looking ruefully at the table 
 and then at her hands, which were marked pretty 
 decidedly with brown stains. 'Just see! — That's 
 milkweed juice. I wonder why it don't stay 
 white ? ' 
 
 ' N T ever mind : I bought a new supply of soap 
 yesterday,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 ' yes ! — and the rain brought a new supply of 
 water, too, I suppose,' said Eunice; — ' but you see, 
 / haven't got a new supply of patience.' 
 
 'That is one of the things I hope all this col- 
 lecting is going to teach my little daughter.' 
 
 'Do you?' said Eunice. 'Well it'll be very 
 nice if it does. But oh I've got one such lovely 
 thing today ! I'll just shew you. No — I must 
 wash my hands first. They're sticky enough to 
 keep the whole collection, without a box.' 
 
 Eunice ran off to the new supplies of soap and 
 water; and probably picked up a little patience by 
 tin' way; for she came back with a very bright 
 face.
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 335 
 
 4 It's so beautiful ! ' she said. ' I believe it's 
 worth all the trouble, just its own self. See ! — ' 
 
 Well, it was certainly beautiful, if not very rare. 
 A long slender feather, of deepest blue; barred 
 and crossed from end to end with jet black. 
 
 4 Isn't it just perfect ? ' Eunice cried in her de- 
 light. 
 
 ' Perfect ! That is the tail feather of a blue jay, 
 Eunice.' 
 
 ' O, is it? ' said Eunice. ' I didn't know that. 
 Those big blue birds with a crest ? Well it made 
 me think of something you read out of the Bible 
 once, — I can't just remember the words.' 
 
 1 Do you mean these, in Job ? " Gavest thou the 
 goodly wings unto the peacock ? or wings and 
 feathers unto the ostrich ? " ' 
 
 'That's it!' cried Eunice: '"goodly wings." 
 Well this is a ' goodly ' feather. Miss Jane can't 
 say anything about this, — if she does I'll just talk 
 Job to her.' 
 
 ' I have something to shew, too,' said Mrs. Keith, 
 taking a little package from the table drawer. ' I 
 went over to see Mrs. Kip this morning, and she 
 gave me this for you.' 
 
 It was a lovely bit of coral, white and perfect. 
 Eunice could hardly speak, for pleasure.
 
 330 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 • O mother! ' she cried. ' Where did she get it ? 
 And O, what made her give it tome?' 
 
 • Her lather was a sailor, and brought it home 
 from one of his voyages. And she sent it to my 
 little daughter, " because the child has been as 
 good as gold," Mrs. Kip said. " She has come and 
 come; and I have been just as cross as two sticks 
 to her; and she's never given me one saucy word. 
 Seemed as if the more I scolded, the sorrier she was 
 for me." 
 
 But now Eunice listened through gathering 
 tears. 
 
 ' Mother, it makes me so ashamed,' she said. 
 ' Because I think I did feel just a little bit provoked, 
 sometimes. When she scolded very hard, you 
 know. Poor Mrs. Kip ! I am real sorry for her, 
 too. But O mother, just look at my piece of coral ! 
 This makes -eleven, — so I've only got to find one 
 more. 
 
 That was not to be done in a minute. "Nine 
 tenths is just halfway'' — says an old proverb; and 
 it certainly seemed as if the eleven twelfths was 
 not a bit better. Eunice looked and searched: 
 turned over stones, went poking into heaps of 
 leav Btudied the roadside, and peered into the 
 
 hedges. No use: either things were not queer,
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 337 
 
 or they were not manageable, or she had them 
 before. 
 
 ' It's just tiresome ! ' she declared one day, com- 
 ing in from a hunt. 
 
 4 Things always are, if you begin at the wrong 
 end,' said Mrs. Keith. ' Little daughter, you are 
 making a very common mistake.' 
 
 ' I think everything's common, now-a-days,' said 
 Eunice. ' What mistake do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' You are turning pleasure into pain.' 
 
 'O well, you know I can't help that, mother,' 
 said Eunice. ' It wouldn't be pain — if I could find 
 my twelfth thing.' 
 
 4 Pleasure out of its place, rarely remains pleas- 
 ure,' said Mrs. Keith. 4 The old rule of " business 
 first," is as sweet and wholesome as it is prudent' 
 
 4 But then you know I haven't any business — ' 
 said Eunice. 
 
 Mrs. Keith's eyes were lifted from her work a 
 moment, and gave a significant glance round the 
 room. Eunice coloured. 
 
 4 yes, to be sure, — I didn't finish my dusting,' 
 
 she said, 4 because I thought I knew where I could 
 
 find it — my twelfth thing — and I just ran out to 
 
 see. And so I didn't brush up the crumbs after 
 
 dinner. That won't take long. And there is a rip 
 22
 
 338 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 in my dress — ' she added, as Mrs. Keith's eyes now 
 brought the charge. ' But mother — ' 
 
 ' What, daughter ? ' 
 
 ' Maybe if I had swept up and finished dusting, 
 and mended my frock first, I should have got all 
 out of the spirit of it.' 
 
 '0 there you are quite mistaken,' said Mrs. 
 Keith. ' I have always found that Duty makes a 
 lovely plain path for Pleasure to walk in: clears 
 away the briers, rolls away the stones.' 
 
 ' Well I wisli the briers had been cleared away, 
 today.' said Eunice, who was now making 
 thorough work with her dustpan and brush where 
 the crumbs lay; 'for some of 'era found out this 
 place in my dress, and gave it a good tear. Im- 
 pertinent things.' 
 
 ' Friendly briers — teaching my little girl a les- 
 son,' said Mrs. Keith with a smile. 
 
 'Well they needn't be quite so friendly,' said 
 Eunice : ' I'll excuse 'em. I can get lessons 
 enough without going to their school, I fancy. 
 twelfth thing ! — I wonder where you are ! '
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 The weeks ran on. And it was at the beginning 
 of the very last week of Miss Jane's stay at Cross 
 Corners, that Eunice presented herself at the cot- 
 tage one afternoon, and reported her twelve curi- 
 ous things ready for inspection. Miss Jane, how- 
 ever, taking her ease in the autumn sunshine on 
 the porch, looked extremely incredulous. 
 
 ' Do you mean to say that you have found 
 twelve curious things?' she inquired. 'When 
 I've been here all summer and haven't found 
 one?' 
 
 ' Perhaps you didn't look — ' Eunice suggested. 
 
 ' Perhaps I didn't. But are you sure they are 
 worth looking at, Midget? I've got very sharp 
 eyes.' 
 
 '/look at them,' said Eunice, throwing off the 
 
 doubt with an airy gesture of her head. Miss 
 
 Jane eved her with an amused face. 
 
 ' Well there's no doubt I shall see one queer 
 
 (339)
 
 340 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 thing, if I go,' she said. ' I promised to go, didn't 
 I, Midget?* 
 
 ' Yes ma'am. As soon as I had found twelve.' 
 
 ' Or how would it be if you brought them up 
 here ? Miss Jane went on. ' In a big market 
 basket, you know. Hey, Midget ? ' 
 
 ' They might get hurt in a basket,' said Eunice, 
 quite sure the young lady was laughing at her, 
 but standing her ground. 
 
 ' So, so ! marked ' fragile,' are they ? ' said Miss 
 Jane. 'But I'll send David for them, — he'll be 
 Careful.' 
 
 ' yes, he'd be careful — said Eunice, hesitat- 
 ing. 
 
 'Well, then?' 
 
 • But he don't love them as I do,' the little girl 
 went on. ' And so he wouldn't know so well how 
 they might get hurt.' 
 
 ' You are the most profound creature in your 
 logic '.'said Miss Jane, — 'and clearly, a natural 
 born collector. Well, I suppose I shall have to 
 go. I do not feel like assuming the risk of price- 
 less specimens. But you might tell me what they 
 are, first: you might give me a list, Midget. Or 
 don't you know? ' 
 
 1 < > yes, ma'am, I know ! ' cried Eunice. ' And I
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 341 
 
 know just which one came first, and all that. 
 
 And the twelfth — I thought I never should find 
 
 the twelfth, Miss Jane.' 
 
 ' Well you know I don't believe you have, now,' 
 
 said Miss Jane. ' But go ahead, and let's hear.' 
 'The first,' said Eunice with sparkling eyes, — 
 
 but then she checked herself. ' Miss Jane, you'll 
 
 like them a great deal better if you see 'em first. 
 
 And then while you're looking, you know, I can 
 
 describe them all.' 
 
 'Can you ! ' — said Miss Jane. ' Then I must go 
 without fail. It will never do to miss a lecture 
 like that.' 
 
 She threw herself out of the hammock, ran up- 
 stairs for her bat, and in five minutes more, the 
 two were going side by side down the road. And 
 Miss Jane thought when she entered the little cot- 
 tage, that it was a very pretty place indeed for a 
 lecture. The neat little room with its crackling 
 wood fire; the fair-browed mistress at her many- 
 coloured work ; and the inpouring afternoon sun to 
 gild and glorify everything it touched. Miss Jane 
 looked about at once for the collection, but there 
 was no sign of that. 
 
 ' They're all in the drawer,' Eunice explained, 
 catching the look. ' Here's the rocking chair, Miss
 
 342 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 Jane, — and I'll bring 'em out to you one by one.' 
 
 ' Small doses, hey ? ' said Miss Jane, taking the 
 chair. ' Now don't begin with the best thing 
 you've got, thinking to dazzle my eyes. Begin 
 with the worst.' 
 
 ' But I do not know which the worst is,' said Eu- 
 nice, pausing with the door in her hand. ' Or at 
 least which you'd call the worst, Miss Jane. I 
 thought I'd shew them to yon just as I found 'em : 
 first my number one, and then my number two.' 
 
 ' Very well, — go ahead and take your own way,' 
 said Miss Jane. 'But do you intend to bestow 
 them all in my lap? Your mother's table is full ; 
 and I do not believe curiosities would agree well 
 with these silks and satins.' 
 
 • Bring the little table from the other room, Eu- 
 nice,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 So Eunice brought the little table and set it be- 
 fore Miss Jane: looked it over verv criticallv for 
 any possible stray grain of dust, and with a face 
 grave as the weighty occasion demanded, went oft* 
 to the next rooiu again. The two who were left, 
 smiled to each other with full sympathy and in- 
 telligence ; but when Eunice came back, Miss 
 Jane turned with a perfectly serious face, to listen 
 ;iiiil look
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 343 
 
 ' I've told you about this one, before,' the little 
 collector said, laying her swallow's nest on the 
 table before Miss Jane. ' This is what mother calls 
 ' a fairweather house ; ' because it was built as if 
 storms couldn't come. See, Miss Jane, — the swal- 
 lows pick up the sticks and carry them to the top 
 of the chimney ; and then they fly down part way ; 
 and then with some sort of glue they have in their 
 mouths, they fasten the sticks together, and then 
 up against the side of the chimney — so. And I think 
 it's very curious.' 
 
 'So do I,' said Miss Jane. 'A house made of 
 sticks and glue. Then if they had driven a nail or 
 two, you think it would have been better ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ma'am. Then it would have held fast when 
 the storm came.' 
 
 k "A nail fastened in a sure place'' — ' Mrs. Keith 
 put in softly. Miss Jane flushed. 
 
 ' Number one is allowed — ' she said. ' Now let's 
 have number two.' 
 
 ' Well number two is another nest,' said Eunice, 
 as she came back again ; ' but it's very different. 
 This one blew out of the maple tree ; and the chip 
 ping birds built it. And only see, Miss Jane,— it's 
 quite new: they hadn't begun to live in it, when it 
 blew down.'
 
 344 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 ' Good for them — ' Miss Jane remarked. ' What's 
 this made of ? hay ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ma'am hay, and little fine, fine roots. it's 
 all so pretty !' said Eunice eagerly, her cheeks be- 
 ginning to bloom out like two carnations. ' I told 
 Davy one day that he wasted a great deal of hay ; — 
 you see Miss Jane, the oxen were just jolting the 
 cart along, and little locks of hay fell here, and 
 little locks of hay fell there. So I told Davy that, 
 and he just laughed. And then one day — a good 
 while after — he brought this in and told me it was 
 some of his ' waste hay.' 
 
 * But David did not make this ?' said Miss Jane, 
 looking curiously at the exquisite little bit of bird- 
 craft. 
 
 '0 no, ma'am ! — Don't you see?' cried Eunice. 
 4 The chipping birds picked it up from the road — 
 the waste hay, as I called it — and built their nest 
 It's all of the new hay, Davy says, with roots to 
 make it strong; — and the little hay flowers stand 
 up round the edge like a fringe; — and there's 
 horse hair wound round and round inside. And 
 Davy says there /could have been feathers.' 
 
 ' When it came to the upholstering,' said Miss 
 Jane. ' Midget, it's almost enough to make me 
 turn collector myself
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 345 
 
 Eunice clapped her hands, and went off for 
 number three. And number three was a larsje 
 dead beetle, with shining yellow wing cases, that 
 looked as if they had been gilt and varnished. 
 This also was admired and set on the little table. 
 But when number four came in, Miss Jane jumped 
 from her chair. 
 
 ' Good patience ! ' she cried, — ' has the child got 
 a snake there ? Keep off, Midget ! — take your 
 treasure away ! I'll count it in without examina- 
 tion.' 
 
 It was well for the safety of number four, that 
 it was pretty solid and substantial; — for at this 
 outcry, Eunice dropped both it and herself right 
 down upon the floor, in a tumult of childish laugh- 
 ter. And Miss Jane, venturing a second look, saw 
 that it was in truth no snake at all ; but only the 
 smooth brown stem of a vine, which had twined 
 itself in regular and very snaky coils, round a long 
 stick of another kind. 
 
 ' Pshaw ! ' she said, reseating herself. ' Hush 
 up, Midget, and come here and shew off your 
 wares. If you don't look out, I'll throw this one 
 over, anyhow.' Eunice picked up herself and her 
 stick, trying hard with one hand to smother the 
 laugh; though her eyes danced yet, and every
 
 346 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 now and then an irrepressible little chuckle let 
 itself be heard. But Miss Jane could not deny 
 that the snaky stick was very curious, — and so 
 her threats fell to the ground. 
 
 "The next four things, Miss Jane,' Eunice said, 
 when the stick had taken its place by the birds' 
 nests and the beetle; 'all the next four, Davy gave 
 me. He had collected them for himself, you see, 
 in the first place.' 
 
 ' And then thinking you were hard put to it for 
 specimens, he gave them to you,' said Miss Jane. 
 • Well, that is like David, as I know him. I don't 
 believe that fellow ever thinks of himself first, 
 from one weeks end to another.' 
 
 4 O he's just the dearest boy !' cried Eunice ener- 
 getically. ' And so he gave me five, six, seven, 
 and eight.' 
 
 ' I hope there are no more twining things among 
 th in,' said Miss Jane with a little shiver. ' T 
 don't like even make-believe snakes.' 
 
 • < ) these are not snakes — ' said Eunice, running 
 off to her drawer and back again. 'Number five 
 i- a piece of wood, though.' 
 
 A very clumsy piece, too, it looks like,' said 
 Miss Jane. ' Well said, — is this some of David's 
 own r.nving?'
 
 CXOSS CORNEJtS. 347 
 
 It was a long, thick bit of pine wood, cleft ir- 
 regularly from its companion piece, and with sev- 
 eral smooth, narrow channels running through it 
 from end to end. One went quite to the end, 
 finishing there in a round hole ; another parted off 
 a little, and ending in the wood, had its own round 
 hole of entrance at the side. They were perfect- 
 ly smooth and round, these galleries; as large 
 perhaps as a pretty good sized thimble ; and every 
 little way, at regular distances, the gallery was 
 closed from side to side by a thin, even, perfectly 
 smooth partition wall. Some of these gray walls 
 were pierced with a little round hole, some not. 
 
 • David never made this ? ' Miss Jane repeated, 
 studying the bit of wood. Again Eunice clapped 
 her hands with delight. 
 
 ' Then you don't know, either,' she said ; — ' that's 
 just splendid. That's a carpenter bee's house, 
 Miss Jane, — and she made it all herself.' 
 
 'Made it all herself?' Miss Jane said, — 'what 
 on earth for? Bees don't live much indoors, so far 
 as I can remember.' 
 
 • no,' Eunice explained: ' she don't live there; 
 but she makes it all, with her own little tools. 
 See Miss Jane — she goes in here first: cuts out 
 her front door, Davy says. And then she chisels
 
 348 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 out all this long gallery, and always takes herself 
 for a measure; — that's the way she gets it so even. 
 And she don't throw all the chips outside the door, 
 but carries them 'way off, for fear some of her ene- 
 mies should find the place.' 
 
 ' Pray do bees have enemies? ' inquired Miss Jane. 
 ' I always thought they were very one-sided Ish- 
 maelites, indeed.' 
 
 ' I don't know what that means,' said Eunice, 
 4 but of course they have enemies. Why the ich- 
 ich — I don't know the name of the fly, — but 
 there is a fly that will come and lay its eggs right 
 in the bee's nest. So Mrs. Bee carries off her chips. 
 And then when the long gallery is all ready, she 
 lays an egg down in the furthest end, and puts a lit- 
 tle bit of a green worm there too, for the young bee 
 to eat when he comes out.' 
 
 k Midget,' said Miss Jane, ' what sort of stuff are 
 you telling me ? Bees don't eat worms.' 
 
 1 but he's a little sort of a worm himself, when 
 he's first hatched,' said Eunice; — 'only he's white, 
 I think. A grub, Davy calls him.' 
 
 ' Green worms won't sit still and count their fin- 
 gers, waiting for white grubs to eat them, child. 
 They'd crawl all over creation, first.' 
 
 • Mrs. Bee takes good care of that,' said Eunice
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 349 
 
 triumphantly. ' She fastens Mr. Green Worm so 
 he can't get away ; — don't kill him you know, but 
 just glues him head and tail. And then — see, Miss 
 Jane — she builds a little clay wall right across the 
 gallery.' 
 
 ' There is a hole in that' said Miss Jane, looking 
 at it narrowly. 
 
 ' Where the little young bee-grub eat his way 
 out,' said Eunice. 'You know he couldn't stay 
 there, Miss Jane.' 
 
 Miss Jane laughed in her dry way. 
 
 ' How do I know ?' she said. ' In this remark- 
 able fairyland region to which I am introduced, I 
 do not seem to know anything. I suppose the 
 next curiosity will be a wasp who always walks on 
 his head.' 
 
 ' Well he don't just do that,' said Eunice, run- 
 ning off again, ' though he does 'most stand on it 
 sometimes. When he's plastering. Because this 
 Mr. Wasp builds his house of mud. And he don't 
 put in worms, but a whole lot of spiders.' She came 
 back with the mud nest in her hand. 
 
 It had been fastened up against a brick wall, and 
 had cleaved off smooth and even, without break- 
 age. The little rooms or cells here lay side by 
 side: one nearly filled with the young wasp in its
 
 350 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 chrysalis state, and one stored with small spiders 
 for the as yet unhatched grub to eat. The spiders 
 were crippled, so that they could not get away, even 
 now when the nest was open. 
 
 ' Where did David get this ? ' inquired Miss 
 Jane. 
 
 ' it was stuck up against the outside of farm- 
 er Dickson's big chimney,' said Eunice. ' And in 
 farmer Dickson's brook he found my other nest. 
 1 haven't got but one nest more.' 
 
 This was the abode of a little caddis worm, 
 which he had fashioned for himself and dwelt in 
 beneath the water. A little tube just big enough 
 to hold him; smooth within; and on the outside 
 all rough and jagged with little pebble stones ce- 
 mented together in some wonderful way. 
 
 1 Here he lived, you see,' Eunice explained, 'at 
 the bottom of the brook. When he wanted to eat, 
 he could put his head out, and eat, — and if he saw 
 a fish coming along that wanted to eat him, he 
 could just pull his head in again. And Davy says 
 when he went out walking, he always took hiR 
 house along.' 
 
 ' I don't see how you can call that going out to 
 walk,' said Miss Jane. ' Midget, I had no idea 
 the world was so wonderful.'
 
 CKOSS COXNEKS. ^\ 
 
 4 I've got ever so many more things,' said Eu- 
 nice gleefully, with all a collector's pride in his 
 specimens. 'And this next one is as old — as old 
 — it's very old, Miss Jane. Davy says somebody 
 told him it was in the world before Methusaleh 
 was born.' 
 
 ' Stuff ! ' — said Miss Jane. ' David should have 
 more sense than to believe such stories.' But 
 then she was suddenly silent. For Eunice laid 
 in her hand a small brown stone, on which 
 was printed deep and clear, line for line, the 
 impression of a lovely little scallop shell. No 
 wax impression of a seal, however perfect, could 
 be more clear. But of course, when the little 
 shell lav there and made its mark, the brown 
 stone must have been just a soft brown mass — 
 soft as the wax need be : and how long ago 
 that was, nobody could tell. Miss Jane sat look- 
 ing at it. 
 
 4 1 give up — ' she said. 4 You shall have your 
 box, child, even if you don't shew me another 
 thing. Did David find this, too ? ' 
 
 4 Yes ma'am. Down at the bank where they're 
 digging the new road,' said Eunice. 4 But I've 
 got my twelve things, Miss Jane; and there are 
 just four more, though I s'pose they're not all so
 
 852 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 wonderful as that. Number nine, is just a dear 
 
 little bird's egg, Miss Jane. Look.' — 
 
 ' O I won't have you robbing the birds nests ! ' 
 cried Miss Jane briskly. 'You may just count 
 that out.' 
 
 ' Why I didn't ! ' said Eunice, looking much 
 hurt. ' Do you think I would, Miss Jane ? Not 
 for ten boxes. Mother found this lying right in 
 the path, — and she thinks the rain must have 
 washed it out of the nest ; because chipping birds 
 do build on the ground sometimes, and this is a 
 chipping bird's agg. y 
 
 ' Is it ?' said Miss Jaue. ' Poor little birdie! I 
 hope the rain didn't drown her.' 
 
 '0 I guess not,' said Eunice. 'Because you 
 know she could fly away, — and the egg couldn't 
 do anything but roll.' 
 
 4 Well don't lay it there, or you will find that it 
 can do something else when it gets to the floor,' 
 said Miss Jane. ' Hurry up, Midget — or I shall 
 be late for dinner. 1 
 
 'Number ten,' said Eunice, 'is this goodly 
 feather, Miss Jane. Mother says it once belonged 
 to a blue jay.' 
 
 Miss Jane gave her a queer look out of her 
 bright eyi
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 353 
 
 4 You'll do for eleven and twelve, yourself,' she 
 said. 'How did you get a blue jay's feather, if 
 you please ? Put salt on his tail ? ' 
 
 ' Well I rather think I didn't,' said Eunice, with 
 a wise shake of her head. ' He must have been 
 kind enough to drop it out for me, himself.' 
 
 ' Or else somebody's cat was kind enough to 
 catch him, and eat up all but one tail feather.' 
 
 Eunice looked grave at that, remembering her 
 own little pussy who had certainly a weakness for 
 birds of all sorts. She went off to the next room 
 after number eleven. 
 
 ' Miss Jane,' she said holding her hands behind 
 her as she came back, ' you like my tail feather, 
 don't you?' 
 
 ' Like it ? ' Miss Jane repeated with a flash of 
 her eyes, — ' I should like to see you sport the 
 whole thing. What have you got there, Midget ? ' 
 
 ' Miss Jane,' said Eunice, ' do you know Mrs. 
 Kip?' 
 
 ' I have not that pleasure. Who is Mrs. Kip V 
 
 ' she's a dreadfully unhappy old woman,' said 
 Eunice. ' And she lives in the village.' 
 
 * Then I think I am glad I do not know her. 
 
 She must be dreadfully small, as well — if you can 
 
 hide her behind your back.' 
 23
 
 354 CROSS CORXERS. 
 
 Eunice laughed, but before she could answer, 
 Mrs. Keith took the word, — speaking for almost 
 the first time since the play began. 
 
 1 Little daughter,' she said, ' I think you are 
 bearing false witness. Did you describe Mrs. Kip 
 quite exactly ? ' 
 
 'Because I said she was dreadfully unhappy ?' 
 said Eunice. ' Why no — I s'pose I didn't, — O 
 no, of course not! I mean, Miss Jane, — you 
 know I mean, — she would be, if she wasn't such 
 a christian.' 
 
 ' I didn't know you meant anything of the sort,' 
 said Miss Jane. ' So you had much better speak 
 exactly.' 
 
 ' Well she is a great christian,' said Eunice with 
 her competent air, 'and so she sits and sings all 
 day long. The harder she aches the more she 
 sings. But I guess I should be pretty unhappy, — 
 and you too,' the little girl went on, discharging 
 her arrows right and left, as she displayed the 
 piece of coral. 
 
 4 Her father used to go to sea, Miss Jane — O a 
 great, great while ago, — and then he'd bring home 
 queer things. And once he brought this; and Mrs. 
 Kip sent it to me.' 
 
 4 1 can't imagine what made her give a little
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 355 
 
 monkey like you such a rare specimen,' said 
 Miss Jane, examining the coral with eyes that 
 understood it, — she was more at home here. But 
 Eunice told not a word of all Mrs. Kip's little 
 message. 
 
 ' I think it was very kind of her,' she answered 
 simply. ' I believe I'd want to keep all my pretty 
 things to amuse myself — if I was Mrs. Kip.' 
 
 'And if you were not a christian — ' said Miss 
 Jane with a keen glance as she sent her return 
 shot. Eunice drew a long breath. 
 
 'Yes, if I wasn't,' she said. ' If I was Mrs. 
 Kip — and wasn't a christian — I'd be pretty hate- 
 ful, I know that. ' dear ! there's only one more, 
 Miss Jane ! ' 
 
 ' Good for me — if I am to have any dinner,' re- 
 sponded Miss Jane. ' What is it ?— the shoe of 
 your great grandmother's doll ? ' 
 
 ' I don't believe she had any doll — said Eunice, 
 — 'out there in the clearing, you know, Miss 
 Jane. But it's something older than my great 
 grandmother herself, — and something I found 
 myself, — too. So I like it very much. Mother 
 says the Indians made it.' — And Eunice laid in 
 her friend's hand a small, beautifully formed flint 
 arrowhead.
 
 356 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 'An arrowhead!' cried Miss Jane. 'Here, at 
 Cross Corners ! And you found it, do you say ? 
 You'd better not let Dr. Magic see this.' 
 
 '0 yes, I found it,' said Eunice. ' I just worried 
 and worried about my number twelve; and mother 
 told me to have patience, and wait and look. So I 
 waited and looked.' 
 
 ' Without the patience — ' put in Miss Jane. 
 
 ' Yes ma'am. At least I didn't have much,' said 
 Eunice. ' But I did keep at my work. Mother says 
 it makes one's eyes clearer to do the work first. 
 And then one day I was sailing- boats in the brook, 
 and bringing 'em down through the rapids; and 
 they would turn over — and then I put in stones to 
 keep 'em steady. And one of the stones I picked 
 up was this. I didn't know what it was, only I 
 thought it was curious; but mother knew.' 
 
 ' It's the prettiest one I ever saw,' said Miss 
 
 lane admiringly. 'And you have earned your 
 
 box, twice over. First by the things themselves, 
 
 and then for having such a wise little head on 
 
 your shoulders, and such a patient little heart.' 
 
 \nd Miss Jane drew the child to her, and kissed 
 
 iist one cheek and then the other. 
 
 Eunice flushed high with gratification; bu1 i* 
 as a verv modest linle voir • thai answered,
 
 CROSS CORNERS. 357 
 
 ' I think it was all mother, Miss Jane.' — 
 What a wonderful box that was, that came as 
 soon as the carpenter could make it ! Much 
 larger than Eunice expected, — it would hold a 
 good many ' twelve things : ' made of cherry 
 Avood, smooth and polished, with beautiful clear 
 glass doors in front, and brass hinges, and actual- 
 ly four shelves inside. And what a show the 
 nests and the coral, and all the rest of the twelve 
 things did make inside ! There was also a brass 
 lock and key to it; and when Eunice had arranged 
 her treasures, and turned the key, there was but 
 one thing to hinder her being absolutely and com- 
 pletely happy. You know there generally is one 
 thing, — and in this case, Miss Jane had gone 
 away, and taken David with her. She went back 
 to her winter of city life, and David to a much 
 better school than anything Cross Corners could 
 furnish. For Miss Jane had taken up all his plans 
 and desires; and meant — so far as she could — to 
 carry them out. 
 
 ' Dear me,' Eunice said, ' things are dreadfully 
 mixed up ! There was that horrid quarter of a 
 dollar, that I made such a fuss about, and that 
 brought Miss Jane. And now Miss Jane has tak- 
 en away Davy.'
 
 358 CROSS CORNERS. 
 
 'And now David is to be a minister — yon must 
 put it so,' said Mrs. Keith. 
 
 ' Yes, I s'pose I must,' said Eunice, drawing- a 
 long sigh. ' I wonder, when Davy's a minister, 
 what we shall be.'
 
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