rly, and in this grief and trouble which God has
sent for some good reason, you have been an inexpressible comfort to us
all."

Olive withdrew her hand from her mother's clasp, and hurried away
without a word. Mrs. Dering thought she was hurt, perhaps angry, and
sighed deeply; but Olive had gone to hide her tears, and resolve to do
differently, but all her resolves were made without asking for higher
strength and help.

CHAPTER VIII.

ODDS AND ENDS.

"My patience alive!" exclaimed Kittie, slamming the stove door open, and
poking in among the ashes and cinders with wrathful haste, "if this
abominable fire hasn't gone out; I never did in all my life! burnt up a
bushel of kindling, too, dear me; water in the tea-kettle stone cold,
not a blessed thing cooking; no more stuff in here to start the fire up,
and Olive waiting for her breakfast this minute to go to the store, good
_gracious_!" and having freed her mind, Kittie ran to the back stairs,
jerked the door open, and shouted with much unseemly energy,--"Kathleen
Dering!"

"Just so; don't strain your lungs that much again, I'm coming, clear the
track," responded Kat cheerfully, and came clattering down with her
shoes unlaced, and her nose as red as a beet.

"Bless the people, but isn't it cold, though. Whew! Jupiter Ammons! What
a relief it is to say something when you're most friz. You don't look
cheerful, sister mine."

"I don't care; it's your week to build the fire and mine to set the
table, and I think you were real mean, to go to sleep again, when you
know Olive has to have her breakfast at seven," grumbled Kittie, flying
about distractedly, while Kat sat on the floor and whistled "Down in a
coal-mine," as she laced her shoes.

"That's the truth, my dear, melancholy like the present days. But you
just skip into the dining-room and set your table, and I'll have a few
words to say to this stove in private, if I don't freeze stiff
beforehand;" and Kat jumped up briskly, having compromised on a lace
with one shoe, by tying the strings about her ankle. "No kindling to
begin with! Oh, this is bliss! Now for a trot to the woodshed," and away
went Kat flying down the yard and back again in a minute with her arms
full.

"I'll be late," said Olive, putting her head in the door, just as the
fire began to snap with its new supply of kindling.

"Sorry, but doing the best I can," answered Kat, pausing a minute to
warm her numb fingers. "Can you get along on