her, what do you mean?" cried Maggie, looking up in
alarm. "What worse troubles can be coming, think you?" And eagerly and
anxiously she fixed her bright blue eyes upon her grandmother's face.

"Well," replied the old woman, "the truth is just this, Maggie: I hear
that the new landlord is going to make some changes among his tenants;
the cottages are all to be repaired, and the folks who can pay higher
rents will stay, while those who cannot must find lodging elsewhere.
And how can we ever pay a higher rent, Maggie? Even now, every penny
of poor Jack's earnings is spent at the end of the week, and yet we
live as cheaply as ever we can."

For a moment or two the girl's face was as perturbed and downcast as
that of her grandmother's, and she bent over her knitting in silence;
but by an evident effort she quickly assumed a more cheerful aspect.
And advancing to the old lady's side, and placing a gentle hand on her
shoulder, she said,--

"Don't fret, dear grandmother; God has cared for us so far, and he
will never suffer us to want, if we put our trust in him. That's what
father used to say, and what he said up to the very day of his death."

So saying, Maggie stooped and kissed the withered cheek of that
father's mother, thereby enforcing, as it were, her encouraging words.

"God bless you, my child!" sobbed the old woman, returning the kiss.
"You remind me of what I am too apt to forget. Yes, Maggie, your
father's God is our God, and he will never forsake his people. I will
wipe away these tears, and put faith in him for the future." And the
grandmother dried her eyes, and rising from her low seat, said
cheerfully, "Maggie, dear, go to the gate, and watch for your brother
Jack. When you see him coming across the field, let me know, and I
will dish up the supper, so as to have it ready."

Maggie put down her work, and passing through the low doorway of the
cottage, stood presently at the little gate that separated the tiny
garden from the meadow of a neighboring farmer, who turned his cattle
out there to graze.

Opening the gate, Maggie leaned against it, while with one hand she
shaded her eyes from the yet dazzling beams of the sinking sun, which
bathed with its parting radiance the western horizon, and crimsoned
the landscape around.

A moment or two she thus stood, but Jack did not appear; and wondering
why he should be so late, Maggie was about to retrace her steps in
order to fetch her knitting, when, from th