er what is ne'er likely to be theirs, instead of facing
it out, and settling down to be old maids; and, as old maids, just
looking round for the odd jobs God leaves in the world for such as old
maids to do. There's plenty of such work, and there's the blessing of
God on them as does it." Libbie was almost out of breath at this
outpouring of what had long been her inner thoughts.

"That's all very true, I make no doubt, for them as is to be old maids;
but as I'm not, please God to-morrow comes, you might have spared your
breath to cool your porridge. What I want to know is, whether you'll be
bridesmaid to-morrow or not. Come, now do; it will do you good, after
all your working, and watching, and slaving yourself for that poor
Franky Hall."

"It was one of my odd jobs," said Libbie, smiling, though her eyes were
brimming over with tears; "but, dear Anne," said she, recovering
itself, "I could not do it to-morrow, indeed I could not."

"And I can't wait," said Anne Dixon, almost sulkily, "Bob and I put it
off from to-day, because of the funeral, and Bob had set his heart on
its being on Michaelmas-day; and mother says the goose won't keep beyond
to-morrow. Do come: father finds eatables, and Bob finds drink, and we
shall be so jolly! and after we've been to church, we're to walk round
the town in pairs, white satin ribbon in our bonnets, and refreshments
at any public-house we like, Bob says. And after dinner there's to be a
dance. Don't be a fool; you can do no good by staying. Margaret Hall
will have to go out washing, I'll be bound."

"Yes, she must go to Mrs. Wilkinson's, and, for that matter, I must go
working too. Mrs. Williams has been after me to make her girl's winter
things ready; only I could not leave Franky, he clung so to me."

"Then you won't be bridesmaid! is that your last word?"

"It is; you must not be angry with me, Anne Dixon," said Libbie,
deprecatingly.

But Anne was gone without a reply.

With a heavy heart Libbie mounted the little staircase, for she felt
how ungracious her refusal of Anne's kindness must appear, to one who
understood so little the feelings which rendered her acceptance of it a
moral impossibility.

On opening the door she saw Margaret Hall, with the Bible open on the
table before her. For she had puzzled out the place where Libbie was
reading, and, with her finger under the line, was spelling out the words
of consolation, piecing the syllables together aloud, with the ea