fer a boy or a girl, ma?" Mrs.
Wiggs had answered: "A girl, Billy, an' her name's Europena!"

On this particular Sunday morning Mrs. Wiggs bustled about the
kitchen in unusual haste.

"I am goin' to make you all some nice Irish pertater soup fer
dinner," she said, as she came in from the parlor, where she kept
her potatoes and onions. "The boys'll be in soon, an' we'll have
to hurry and git through 'fore the childern begin to come to
Sunday-school."

For many years Sunday afternoon had been a trying time in the
neighborhood, so Mrs. Wiggs had organized a Sunday-school class at
which she presided.

"If there don't come Chris an' Pete a'ready!" said Asia, from her
post by the stove; "I bet they've had their dinner, an' jes' come
early to git some of ours!"

"Why, Asia!" exclaimed Mrs. Wiggs, "that ain't hospit'le, an' Chris
with one leg, too! 'T ain't no trouble at all. All I got to do is to
put a little more water in the soup, an' me and Jim won't take but
one piece of bread."

When Jim and Billy came in they found their places at the table
taken, so they sat on the floor and drank their soup out of
tea-cups.

"Gee!" said Billy, after the third help, "I've drinken so much that
when I swallers a piece er bread I can hear it splash!"

"Well, you boys git up now, an' go out and bring me in a couple of
planks to put acrost the cheers fer the childern to set on."

By two o 'clock the Sunday-school had begun; every seat in the
kitchen, available and otherwise, was occupied. The boys sat in the
windows and on the table, and the girls squeezed together on the
improvised benches. Mrs. Wiggs stood before them with a dilapidated
hymn-book in her hand.

"Now, you all must hush talking so we kin all sing a hymn; I'll
read it over, then we'll all sing it together.

'When upon life's billers you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged thinking all is lost,
Count yer many blessin's, name 'em one by one,
An' it will surprise you what the Lord hath done!'"

Clear and strong rose the childish voices in different keys and
regardless of time, but with a genuine enthusiasm that was in itself
a blessing. When they had sung through the three stanzas Mrs. Wiggs
began the lesson.

"What did we study 'bout last Sunday?" she asked.

No response, save a smothered giggle from two of the little girls.

"Don't you all remember what the Lord give Moses up on the
mountain?"

A hand went up in the corner, and a