r and it kept me busy looking after 'em. I expect I made mistakes
but I kept up me and the patients' courage by sympathizing and
heartening. It didn't cost nobody nothing and we wasn't so prosperous
then that it wasn't a help for me to do the doctoring when I could, and
I mostly were able. I were glad of the work and did it with a thankful
mind; not as they wasn't times when I felt sick at heart, and in danger
of questioning why, but I tried to steady myself with prayer until I
could find the Everlasting Arm to lean on that is always held out to
the widow and the fatherless. And so a-leaning I have got me and Tom
Mayberry along until now."

"And the whole rest of the world leaning on you," said the lovely lady
as she drew nearer and caught Mother Mayberry's strong hand in her own
slender fingers.

"Well," answered Mother, as she shaded her eyes with her other hand to
look far up the Road toward the Ridge over which they were waiting for
the Doctor's horse to appear, "looks like often hands a-reaching out
for help gives strength before they takes any, and a little hope
planted in another body's garden is apt to fly a seed and sprout in
your own patch. There he is--let's hurry in the biscuits!"

CHAPTER II

THE SINGER LADY AND THE BREAD-BOWL

"Well, I don't know as I'd like to have her messing around my kitchen
and house, a stranger and a curious one at that. But you always was
kinder soft, Mis' Mayberry," said Mrs. Peavey as she glanced with
provoked remonstrance at Mother Mayberry, who went calmly on attending
to the needs of a fresh hatching of young chickens. Mrs. Peavey lived
next door to the Doctor's house and the stone wall that separated the
two families was not in any way a barrier to her frequent neighborly
and critical visitations. She was meager of stature and soul, and the
victim of a devouring fire of curiosity which literally licked up the
fagots of human events that came in her way. She was the fly that
kicked perpetually in Mother Mayberry's cruse of placid ointment, but
received as full a mead of that balm of friendship as any woman on the
Road.

"Why, she ain't a mite of trouble, but just a pleasure, Hettie Ann,"
answered Mother with mild remonstrance in her tone. "I expected to have
a good bit of worry with her, having no cook in my kitchen, 'count of
waiting for Cindy to get well and come back to me and nobody easy to
pick up to do the work, but she hadn't been here a week before she wa