e, and the peace of God was in her heart. So she "stood
in her lot" strong and unafraid, whatever might befall.

She was a loving mother to her sons, but her rule was firm as well as
gentle. There was no need in that house to appeal to the father's
stronger will where obedience was not promptly given. It was a serious
matter indeed that needed an appeal to their father. To the lads their
mother's word was law. Not that the law was not forgotten sometimes, or
even wilfully broken in times of strong temptation. But confession of
sins, though not always prompt, was, in course of time, quite certain.
She had their confidence entirely. It was an unhappy boy, indeed, who
carried about, for even a few days, a sinful or sorrowful secret hidden
from his mother.

In among these lads John came as another brother, and Mrs Hume was kind
and gracious in her intercourse with him. She was faithful also, and
told him of faults and failings which his own mother never acknowledged,
and helped him to correct them, as, even had she seen them, his own
mother might have hesitated to do. It was, indeed, a good day for John
when the door of the manse was opened to him.

And then there was Marjorie, poor little soul, who was nearly nine, and
who looked like six, a fair, weak little creature, who could only walk a
step or two at a time, and who was yet as eager to know, and to do, and
to be in the midst of things as the strongest of them all. "Another
brother," she called their new friend, who had more sense and patience
than Robin or Jack, and who could carry her so easily and strongly
without being tired. It was a happy day for Marjorie when John came in
to see her. It was better than a new book, she thought, to hear him
talk.

"And a new book is so soon done with," said Marjorie, who did not see
very many new books, and who had usually learned them by heart before
she had had them many days. But John had always something to tell her.
He told her about new places and new people, and he had seen the sea,
and had sailed on it. He had been in London and had seen the king and
the queen, "like the travelled cat," as Robin said. And there was no
end to the stories he could tell her that she had never heard before.
She was never tired of listening to him, and hailed his coming with
delight, and long before he had come to feel quite at ease with the
mother, John had learned to love dearly the eager, gentle little
creature, from whose