I do not hear that."
So perhaps Nettie thought, as she went homeward. It would have been very natural. Now the sun was down, the bright gleam was off the village; the soft shades of evening were gathering and lights twinkled in windows. Nettie walked very slowly, her arms full of the bread. Perhaps she wished her Saturday's work was all done, like other people's. All I can tell you is, that as she went along through the quiet deserted street, all alone, she broke out softly singing to herself the words,
"No need of the sun in that day Which never is followed by night."
And that when she got home she ran up stairs quite briskly, and came in with a very placid face; and told her mother she had had a pleasant walk--which was perfectly true.
"I'm glad, dear," said her mother, with a sigh. "What made it pleasant?"
"Why, mother," said Nettie, "Jesus was with me all the way."
"God bless you, child!" said her mother; "you are the very rose of my heart!"
There was only time for this little dialogue, for which Mr. Mathieson's slumbers had given a chance. But then Barry entered, and noisily claimed Nettie's promise. And without a cloud crossing her sweet brow, she made the cakes, and baked them on the stove, and served Barry until he had enough; nor ever said how weary she was of being on her feet. There were some cakes left, and Mrs. Mathieson saw to it that Nettie sat down and ate them; and then sent her off to bed without suffering her to do anything more; though Nettie pleaded to be allowed to clear away the dishes. Mrs. Mathieson did that; and then sat down to make darns and patches on various articles of clothing, till the old clock of the church on the hill tolled out solemnly the hour of twelve all over the village.
CHAPTER II.
SUNDAY'S REST.
Nettie's room was the only room on that floor besides her mother's and Barry's. It was at the back of the house, with a pleasant look-out over the trees and bushes between it and the spring. Over these the view went to distant hills and fields, that always looked pretty in all sorts of lights, Nettie thought. Besides that, it was a clean, neat little room; bare to be sure, without even Barry's strip of rag carpet; but on a little black table lay Nettie's Bible and Sunday-school books; and each window had a chair; and a chest of drawers held all her little wardrobe and a great deal of room to spare besides; and the cot-bed in one corner was nicely made up. It was a very comfortable-looking room to Nettie.
"So this is the last night I shall sleep here!" she thought as she went in. "To-morrow I must go up to the attic. Well,--I can pray there just the same; and God will be with me there just the same."
It was a comfort; but it was the only one Nettie could think of in connexion with her removal. The attic was no room, but only a little garret used as a lumber place; not boarded up, nor plastered at all; nothing but the beams and the side-boarding for the walls, and nothing but the rafters and the shingles between it and the sky. Besides which, it was full of lumber of one sort and another. How Nettie was to move up there the next day, being Sunday, she could not imagine; but she was so tired that as soon as her head touched her pillow she fell fast asleep, and forgot to think about it.
The next thing was the bright morning light rousing her, and the joyful thought that it was Sunday morning. A beautiful day it was. The eastern light was shining over upon Nettie's distant hills, with all sorts of fresh lovely colours and promise of what the coming hours would bring. Nettie looked at them lovingly, for she was very fond of them and had a great many thoughts about those hills. "As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people;"--that was one thing they made her think of. She thought of it now as she was dressing, and it gave her the feeling of being surrounded with a mighty and strong protection on every side. It made Nettie's heart curiously glad, and her tongue speak of joyful things; for when she knelt down to pray she was full of thanksgiving.
The next thing was, that taking her tin pail Nettie set off down to the spring to get water to boil the kettle. It was so sweet and pleasant--no other spring could supply nicer water. The dew brushed from the bushes and grass as she went by; and from every green thing
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