husband if he knew of any place where she could "hire out." Dr. Wasgatt
would be very glad to take her or Miss Faith over there, of a morning,
to see if she would answer.

Faith was very glad to go.

Dr. Wasgatt was the "old doctor." A benign man, as old doctors--when
they don't grow contrariwise, and become unspeakably gruff and
crusty--are apt to be. A benign old doctor, a docile old horse, an
old-fashioned two-wheeled chaise that springs to the motion like a bough
at a bird flitting, and an indescribable June morning wherein to drive
four miles and back--well! Faith couldn't help exulting in her heart
that they wanted a cook.

The way was very lovely toward Lakeside, and across to factory village.
It crossed the capricious windings of Wachaug two or three times within
the distance, and then bore round the Pond Road, which kept its old
traditional cognomen, though the new neighborhood that had grown up at
its farther bend had got a modern name, and the beautiful pond itself
had come to be known with a legitimate dignity as Lake Wachaug.

Graceful birches, with a spring, and a joyous, whispered secret in every
glossy leaf, leaned over the road toward the water; and close down to
its ripples grew wild shrubs and flowers, and lush grass, and lady
bracken, while out over the still depths rested green lily pads, like
floating thrones waiting the fair water queens who, a few weeks hence,
should rise to claim them. Back, behind the birches, reached the fringe
of woodland that melted away, presently, in the sunny pastures, and held
in bush and branch hundreds of little mother birds, brooding in a still
rapture, like separate embodied pulses of the Universal Love, over a
coming life and joy.

Life and joy were everywhere. Faith's heart danced and glowed within
her. She had thought, many a time before, that she was getting somewhat
of the joy of the country, when, after dinner and business were over,
she had come out from Mishaumok, in proper fashionable toilet, with her
father and mother, for an afternoon airing in the city environs. But
here, in the old doctor's "one-hoss shay," and with her round straw hat
and chintz wrapper on, she was finding out what a rapturously different
thing it is to go out into the bountiful morning, and identify oneself
therewith.

She had almost forgotten that she had any other errand when they turned
away from the lake, and took a little side road that wound off from it,
and struck the r