nd the ghost of a Little House called
to me.

"Have you forgotten me?" "No!" I cried.
"Your hall was as narrow as this is wide,
Your roof was leaky, the rain came
through
Till a ceiling fell, on my new frock too!

"In your parlour flooring a loose board hid,
And wore the carpet, you know it did!
Your kitchen was small, and the shelves
were few,
While the fireplace smoked--and you
know it's true!"

The little ghost sighed: "Do you quite
forget
My window boxes of mignonette?
And the sunny room where you used to
sew
When a great hope came to you, long ago?

"Ah, me! How you used to watch the
door
Where a latch-key turned on the stroke
of four.
And you made the tea, and you poured
it out
From an old brown pot with a broken
spout

"Now, times have changed. And your
footman waits
With the silver urn, and the fluted plates.
But the little blind Love with the wings,
has flown,
Who used to sit by your warm hearth-
stone."

The little ghost paused. Then "Away!"
I said.
"Back to your place with the quiet dead.
Back to your place, lest my servants see,
That the ghost of a Little House calls
to me."

The House-Mother

Across the town the evening bell is
ringing;
Clear comes the call, through kitchen
windows winging!

Lord, knowing Thou art kind,
I heed Thy call to prayer.
I have a soul to save;
A heart which needs, I think, a double
share
Of sweetnesses which noble ladies crave.
Hope, faith and diligence, and patient
care,
With meekness, grace, and lowliness of
mind.
Lord, wilt Thou grant all these
To one who prays, but cannot sit at ease?

They do not know,
The passers-by, who go
Up to Thy house, with saintly faces set;
Who throng about Thy seat,
And sing Thy praises sweet,
Till vials full of odours cloud Thy feet;
They do not know . . .
And, if they knew, then would they greatly
care
That Thy tired handmaid washed the
children's hair;
Or, with red roughened hands, scoured
dishes well,
While through the window called the