and going with
him. But she was comfortable now at home, and Job was easy in his mind
about her.

We should not forget to mention that the old soldier made his appearance
in an entirely new suit of clothes, and with his Sunday leg on. He joked
a good deal about these externals, and amused the company by his genial
humor. His coat was one presented him by Mr. Corlis; the waistcoat had
belonged to Deacon Dustan, and the trousers were a gift from Father
Brighthopes. Job acknowledged half a dozen shirts from the fair hands of
Miss Sedley, the school-ma'am, Sarah Royden and Julia Keller; one of
which he had on his back. The handkerchief he wore was a present from
Chester. His boot alone was the product of his own labor.

Job had cut off the trousers to fit his wooden leg, and made a jaunty
cap of the fragment. The leg itself was an extra one he had kept by him
a long time, using it only on Sunday, Fast Day, Thanksgiving and the
Fourth of July. It was quite a handsome stick, elegantly finished, and
"well seasoned," Job declared.

"I am careful of this leg," he said, in his subdued voice, and quiet,
cheerful manner, when the old clergyman joked him about it. "I always
keep it on the top shelf at home, with a newspaper around it, to protect
it from dust and flies. If you had the gout, sir, you couldn't be more
careful of your limbs."

This was after dinner. Job was sitting in the easy-chair, out doors,
where the shadow of the house sloped across the grassy lawn. The guests
were forming a circle around him and the old clergyman, some sitting
upon the green sward, others supporting their dignity upon chairs, and a
few of the young people lying at their ease along the ground.

Mr. Kerchey, who happened to be standing near, with his arm in a swing,
exerted himself to speak, and made a comparison between his useless and
painful member and Job's comfortable leg.

"Get a wooden one, get a wooden one," said Job. "But, then, an arm of
that sort wouldn't be so convenient as a leg. I don't think I could make
shoes with only one hand. Dear me! when I think of it, how thankful I
ought to be that only my leg was taken off! Supposing I had lost an
arm,--or my head,--and been obliged to get a new one?"

"You wouldn't be the first man to go about with a wooden pate," said
Chester. "There are plenty of block-heads in the world."

"I believe I was one when I enlisted," laughed Job.

"At least, your head was turned," quietly observed Fat