in, or say something
impudent; but the quiet childish form stepping on so simply and steadily
seemed to disarm him, and he shrunk back, left her to trip across the
road unmolested, and stood leaning over the rail of the bridge, gazing
after her as she crossed the hay-field.

Harold rode off with the letters; and Alfred lay gazing, and wondering
what that stranger could be, counting the holes in his garments, and
trying to guess at his history.

One good thing was, that Alfred was so much carried out of himself, that
he was cheerful all the evening.

CHAPTER II--HAY-MAKING

There was again a sultry night, which brought on so much discomfort and
restlessness, that poor Alfred could not sleep. He tried to bear in mind
how much he had disturbed his mother the night before, and he checked
himself several times when he felt as if he could not bear it any longer
without waking her, and to remember his old experience, that do what she
would for him, it would be no real relief, and he should only be sorry
the next day when he saw her going about her work with a worn face and a
head-ache.

Then every now and then Miss Selby's words about being patient came back
to him. Sometimes he thought them hard, coming from a being who had
never known sickness or sorrow, and wondered how she would feel if laid
low as he was; but they would not be put away in that manner, for he knew
they were true, and were said by others than Miss Jane, though he had
begun to think no phrase so tiresome, hopeless, or provoking. People
always told him to be patient when they had no comfort to give him, and
did not know what he was suffering. He would not have minded it so much
if only he could have got it out of his head. Somehow it would not let
him call to his mother, if it was only because very likely all he should
get by so doing would be to be again told to be patient. And then came
Miss Jane's telling him his illness might be good for him, as if she
thought he deserved to be punished. Really that was hard! Who could
think he deserved this wearing pain and helplessness, only because he had
played tricks on the butler and housekeeper, and now and then laughed at
church?

'It is just like Job and his friends,' thought Alfred. 'I don't want her
to come and see me any more!'

Poor Alfred! There was a little twinge here. His conscience could not
give quite such an account as did that of Job! But he did not like
recollecting his o