ere was a
radiance that outshone that of the sun, even the reflected splendour of
heaven.

After a while she continued: "I want you and Reuben to decide who are
to live in the cottages, but I should like Ginty's mother to have the
first offer, love, and I think she will not refuse for my sake; and you
must arrange about the other. You will see Lawyer Simpson in
Fawkshill, love, and tell him all this. Go this afternoon, for I shall
be restless now until all is done. And now let me tell you what no
lawyer need know."

Again she rested for a while and then continued:

"They are sure to want a service at the chapel, for I am the oldest
member, and a class leader. But I do so dislike doleful singing, so I
have been thinking it over and I have put down on a paper which you
will find in my Bible the hymns which I should like to have sung. Ask
them to sing first 'My God, the spring of all my joys,' to the tune of
'Lydia.' You won't know the tune, love, for it is a very old-fashioned
one, but I have always liked it, and it goes with a rare swing. Then I
_must_ have 'Jesu, Lover of my soul' to 'Hollingside,' for that is the
hymn of my experience; and to conclude with let them sing a child's
hymn. I'm afraid you will laugh at me, Grace, but I would like to have
'There is a better world, they say.' I think these will be sufficient,
and they are all very cheerful hymns and tunes."

"And the minister?" I asked, for her calmness was infectious.

"Oh, either of them, love," she said; "they are both good men, and they
must arrange to suit their own convenience. Now give me a kiss. I am
so glad to have got this done, and though I am tired I feel ever so
much better."

I saw the lawyer in the afternoon, and he called with the draft on the
following day, and by the next it had been signed, witnessed and
completed.

Mother Hubbard did not go to chapel on the Sunday, but on the Thursday
she expressed her fixed determination to take her class. I protested
in vain; the motherkin had made up her mind.

"I must, love; it is laid upon me, and I am not at all excited."

"But, dear," I urged, "I shall worry terribly whilst you are out of my
care. You are not fit to go--you are not strong enough."

"It is only a step, love," she replied, "and the evening is warm; why
need you worry when you can come with me?"

She had never suggested this before--indeed, when I had laughingly
suggested it she had been visibly alarmed, and