going on outside four walls. You have a merry
heart, miss, and I hope will keep it all your days, for it's a blessed
thing to own."

"I think you have something better, a contented one," said Sylvia, as
the woman regarded her with no sign of envy or regret.

"I ought to have; nine years on a body's back can teach a sight of
things that are wuth knowin'. I've learnt patience pretty well I guess,
and contentedness ain't fur away, for though it sometimes seems ruther
long to look forward to, perhaps nine more years layin' here, I jest
remember it might have been wuss, and if I don't do much now there's all
eternity to come."

Something in the woman's manner struck Sylvia as she watched her softly
beating some tune on the sheet with her quiet eyes turned toward the
light. Many sermons had been less eloquent to the girl than the look,
the tone, the cheerful resignation of that plain face. She stooped and
kissed it, saying gently--

"I shall remember this."

"Hooray! There they be; I hear Ben!"

And away clattered Nat to be immediately absorbed into the embraces of a
swarm of relatives who now began to arrive in a steady stream. Old and
young, large and small, rich and poor, with overflowing hands or trifles
humbly given, all were received alike, all hugged by grandpa, kissed by
grandma, shaken half breathless by Uncle Abel, welcomed by Aunt
Patience, and danced round by Phebe and Nat till the house seemed a
great hive of hilarious and affectionate bees. At first the strangers
stood apart, but Phebe spread their story with such complimentary
additions of her own that the family circle opened wide and took them in
at once.

Sylvia was enraptured with the wilderness of babies, and leaving the
others to their own devices followed the matrons to "Patience's room,"
and gave herself up to the pleasant tyranny of the small potentates, who
swarmed over her as she sat on the floor, tugging at her hair, exploring
her eyes, covering her with moist kisses, and keeping up a babble of
little voices more delightful to her than the discourse of the flattered
mammas who benignly surveyed her admiration and their offspring's
prowess.

The young people went to romp in the barn; the men, armed with
umbrellas, turned out _en masse_ to inspect the farm and stock, and
compare notes over pig pens and garden gates. But Sylvia lingered where
she was, enjoying a scene which filled her with a tender pain and
pleasure, for each baby was laid