room, when the hot weather drove the
family out of the kitchen.

Before that came June and strawberries. Lois picked the fruit always.
She had been a good while one very warm afternoon bending down among
the strawberry beds, and had brought in a great bowl full of fruit. She
and Madge came together to their room to wash hands and get in order
for tea.

"I have worked over all that butter," said Madge, "and skimmed a lot of
milk. I must churn again to-morrow. There is no end to work!"

"No end to it," Lois assented. "Did you see my strawberries?"

"No."

"They are splendid. Those Black Princes are doing finely too. If we
have rain they will be superb."

"How many did you get to-day?"

"Two quarts, and more."

"And cherries to preserve to-morrow. Lois, I get tired once in a while!"

"O, so do I; but I always get rested again."

"I don't mean that. I mean it is _all_ work, work; day in and day out,
and from one year's end to another. There is no let up to it. I get
tired of that."

"What would you have?"

"I'd like a little play."

"Yes, but in a certain sense I think it is all play."

"In a nonsensical sense," said Madge. "How can work be play?"

"That's according to how you look at it," Lois returned cheerfully. "If
you take it as I think you can take it, it is much better than play."

"I wish you'd make me understand you," said Madge discontentedly. "If
there is any meaning to your words, that is."

Lois hesitated.

"I like work anyhow better than play," she said. "But then, if you look
at it in a certain way, it becomes much better than play. Don't you
know, Madge, I take it all, everything, as given me by the Lord to
do;--to do for him;--and I do it so; and that makes every bit of it all
pleasant."

"But you can't!" said Madge pettishly. She was not a pettish person,
only just now something in her sister's words had the effect of
irritation.

"Can't what?"

"Do everything for the Lord. Making butter, for instance; or cherry
sweetmeats. Ridiculous! And nonsense."

"I don't mean it for nonsense. It is the way I do my garden work and my
sewing."

"What _do_ you mean, Lois? The garden work is for our eating, and the
sewing is for your own back, or grandma's. I understand religion, but I
don't understand cant."

"Madge, it's not cant; it's the plain truth."

"Only that it is impossible."

"No. You do not understand religion, or you would know how it is. All
these things are things given