se
manufacture of cotton and woollen mixed, blue and white; and then
gradually found a way to bestow the various articles in Barry's
apartment, so that things looked neat and comfortable. But perhaps it
was a little bit of a sign of Nettie's feeling, that she began softly to
sing to herself,

"'There is rest for the weary.'"

"Hollo!" burst in a rude boy of some fifteen years, opening the door
from the entry,--"who's puttin' my room to rights?"

A very gentle voice said, "I've done it, Barry."

"What have you done with that pine log?"

"Here it is,--in the corner behind the bureau."

"Don't you touch it now, to take it for your fire,--mind, Nettie!
Where's my kite?"

"You wont have time to fly it now, Barry; supper will be ready in two
minutes."

"What you got?"

"The same kind we had last night."

"_I_ don't care for supper." Barry was getting the tail of his kite
together.

"But please, Barry, come now; because it will make mother so much more
trouble if you don't. She has the things to clear away after you're
done, you know!"

"Trouble! so much talk about trouble! _I_ don't mind trouble. I don't
want any supper, I tell you."

Nettie knew well enough he would want it by and by, but there was no use
in saying anything more, and she said nothing. Barry got his kite
together and went off. Then came a heavier step on the stairs, which she
knew; and she hastily went into the other room to see that all was
ready. The tea was made, and Mrs. Mathieson put the smoking dish of
porridge on the table, just as the door opened and a man came in. A
tall, burly, strong man, with a face that would have been a good face
enough if its expression had been different, and if its hue had not been
that of a purplish-red flush. He came to the table and silently sat down
as he took a survey of what was on it.

"Give me a cup of tea! Have you got no bread, Sophia?"

"Nothing but what you see. I hoped you would bring home some money, Mr.
Mathieson. I have neither milk nor bread; it's a mercy there's sugar. I
don't know what you expect a lodger to live on."

"Live on his board,--that'll give you enough. But you want something to
begin with. I'd go out and get one or two things--but I'm so confounded
tired. I can't."

Mrs. Mathieson, without a word, put on a shawl and went to the closet
for her bonnet.

"I'll go, mother! Let me go, please. I want to go," exclaimed Nettie,
eagerly. "I can get it. What shall I get, fath