naccustomed to self-control, were sobbing
audibly into their handkerchiefs, and Mother Hubbard noticed it.

"We will not sing a closing hymn," she said; "let us pray."

The women knelt; but she merely leaned forward, with her hands clasped
on the table in front of her, and commended them all to God. She
prayed for each of them individually, using their Christian names, and
remembering all their families and family difficulties. She prayed for
the absent ones, for the toilworn and the sick; and she prayed for
me--and may God in His mercy answer that prayer, then shall my life be
blessed indeed.

When she had pronounced the benediction in a very low voice we rose
from our knees, and saw her with her face uplifted to heaven, and the
calm of heaven spread over it, like the clear golden calm of a
cloudless sunset. Then, slowly, the head dropped upon her hands; and
when at length we tried to rouse her we found that she was beyond our
call.

CHAPTER XXVIII

IN THE CRUCIBLE

Despite the squire's protests I remained in my own cottage until the
Monday when Mother Hubbard's frail body was laid to rest in the little
graveyard. There was nothing to fear, and I felt that I could not
leave her there alone. She would have rebuked me, I know, and would
have read me the lesson of the cocoon and the butterfly; but I am most
contented when I trust implicitly to my instincts, and my Inner Self
bade me stay.

Practically all the village turned out to the funeral, and the chapel
was crowded to its utmost capacity. It was a cheerful service, too, in
spite of our tears, for the ministers and members had caught her
spirit, and "Lydia" was sung with a vigour and heartiness which I
should have liked the dear old lady to witness. Perhaps she did: who
knows?

The squire and I occupied the position of chief mourners, but the
entire village sorrowed, as those only sorrow who have lost a friend
that cannot be replaced. There is no other Mother Hubbard here, and
how much she will be missed when trouble sits by the hearths of the
people only time can make known.

When all was over I went straight to my new home at the Hall, and
entered into possession of the lovely room which had been prepared for
me. Every morning and afternoon I go to my work at the studio, but
without the zest which makes duty a delight. The squire would like me
to abandon the studio altogether and do my regular work at the Hall,
but I cannot quite reconci