let me give you this," she said. "It isn't
much; it isn't even new, and it has some marks in it; but I thought it
might help with your new undertaking."

Gardley took it with a lighting of his face and opened the box. In it
was a little, soft, leather-bound Testament, showing the marks of usage,
yet not worn. It was a tiny thing, very thin, easily fitting in a
vest-pocket, and not a burden to carry. He took the little book in his
hand, removed the silken rubber band that bound it, and turned the
leaves reverently in his fingers, noting that there were pencil-marks
here and there. His face was all emotion as he looked up at the giver.

"I thank you," he said, in a low tone, glancing about to see that no one
was noticing them. "I shall prize it greatly. It surely will help. I
will read it every day. Was that what you wanted? And I will carry it
with me always."

His voice was very earnest, and he looked at her as though she had given
him a fortune. With another glance about at the preoccupied room--even
Bud was busy studying Jasper Kemp's oldest gun--he snapped the band on
the book again and put it carefully in his inner breast-pocket. The book
would henceforth travel next his heart and be his guide. She thought he
meant her to understand that, as he put out his hand unobtrusively and
pressed her fingers gently with a quick, low "Thank you!"

Then Mom Wallis's bonnet was brought out and tied on her, and the poor
old woman blushed like a girl when she stood with meek hands folded at
her waist and looked primly about on the family for their approval at
Margaret's request. But that was nothing to the way she stared when
Margaret got out the threefold mirror and showed her herself in the new
headgear. She trotted away at last, the wonderful bonnet in one hand,
the box in the other, a look of awe on her face, and Margaret heard her
murmur as she put it away: "Glory! _Me!_ Glory!"

Then Margaret had to read one or two of the poems for Jasper Kemp, while
they all sat and listened to her Scotch and marveled at her. A woman
like that condescending to come to visit them!

She gave a lesson in note-reading to the Fiddling Boss, pointing one by
one with her white fingers to the notes until he was able to creep along
and pick out "Suwanee River" and "Old Folks at Home" to the intense
delight of the audience.

Margaret never knew just how it was that she came to be telling the men
a story, one she had read not long before in a m