y, Deacon, but didn't he do him up at one shot, and nothing but a
little piece of rock in the gum-sling!" exclaimed 'Lias in excitement
over the climax of the tale the Deacon had just completed. "I wisht I
was that strong!"

"It was the strength the Lord gived to him, 'Lias Hoover, to special
kill the giant with," said Eliza in an argumentative tone of voice. "Do
you reckon He tooken the strength away from David the next morning,
Deacon, or let him keep it to use all the time?" Eliza's extreme
practicality showed at all times, even in those of deepest excitement.

The Deacon was saved the strain of intellect involved in making reply
to this demand by his wife's low exclamation of pleasure as she caught
sight of the girl and the tot in the doorway. She smiled softly as the
singer lady seated herself on the side of the bed and took both her
hand and that of the sleeping baby in a firm, young one. A peculiar
bond of sympathy had arisen between the girl and the gentle old
invalid, both fighting pain and anxiety. Mrs. Bostick would lie for
hours drinking in tales of Miss Wingate's travels in the world, which
she had timidly but eagerly asked for from the beginning of their
friendship. The girl knew that the anxious mother-heart vas using her
descriptions to fare forth on quests for the wanderer into the wide
world beyond the Harpeth Hills, that had all her life bounded her
horizon, and she sat by her long hours, leading the way into the
uttermost parts. After a fatherly greeting, the Deacon departed with
the children to his bench under the trees and left the two alone for
their talk, and the long shadows were stretched across the Road and the
sun sinking beyond the Ridge before the singer lady wended her way
dejectedly home with the play-wearied Martin Luther trailing beside
her. She found Mother Mayberry, much to her relieved astonishment,
placidly rocking in her accustomed place, with her palm-leaf ruffling
the water-waves and a fresh lawn tie blowing in the breeze.

"Come in, honey-hearts," she said eagerly, with bright tenderness
shining in her face for the girl and the barefoot young pilgrim; "I
have been setting here a-missing you both for a hour. With you and my
young mission boy both gone I'm like an old hawk-robbed hen. I knew you
was with Mis' Bostick, and I didn't come for you 'cause somehow them
rocking-chair-bed travels you and her take seems to comfort her. I
wouldn't interrupt one of 'em for the world, thoug