ree congenial spirits, more
timid than herself, but equally devoted. A little prayer meeting began
to be held once a week in her room. On Sabbaths in the afternoon, a few
of the girls came together to study the Bible. Before the half year was
over, the hallowed flame had swept from heart to heart, and there was a
revival in that school."

[Illustration: _Yes, father, your dinner is ready_.]

TWO KINDS OF SERVICE

* * * * *

"Have you put up my dinner, Maude?"

John Melvin asked the question almost timidly. His daughter's face was
clouded, her lips were compressed, and she was making a great deal of
unnecessary noise as she moved about the kitchen. She did not reply at
once, and when she spoke it was in no pleasant voice.

"Yes, father, your dinner is ready. Now I must put up the children's
dinners, and there is the ironing to do, and I must do some cooking
also. This will be a busy day with me, but all my days seem to be busy.
Perhaps I do not understand how to keep ahead of the work. I have no
time for recreation; there seems to be nothing in life for me but
drudgery."

Mr. Melvin sighed heavily.

"I am sorry, Maude. If last season's crops had not failed, I should
have hired some stout woman to do the heavy work. It is too much for
you, a girl of nineteen, to have all these cares; but what can I do?"

"You can do nothing, father, and no one is to blame. I expect to be a
drudge. Amy," raising her voice, "where are you? Go and pick up the
breakfast dishes, and be quick about it. It isn't time to get ready for
school. Fred, what are you doing? Haven't I told you not to whistle in
the kitchen? Oh, dear! one needs more patience than any mortal ever
had!"

"I am sorry, Maude," said Mr. Melvin, again. "It was a sad day for us
all when your mother died."

And then the discouraged man, old and worn before his time, took his
dinner-pail and started for the distant wood-lot.

Maude continued to move rapidly about the kitchen and pantry, doing the
morning's work and scolding the children in a shrill voice.

"What's the use of being so cross, Maude?" asked Amy, a bright-eyed girl
of twelve. "I can't see that it does any good."

"I can't be so easy as you are, Amy. I wish things didn't fret me, but
they do. And you have an easy time, while I have to work like a slave."

"I'm sure I help you all I can, Maude. I don't suppose you want me to
stay out of school to work."

"You kn