Why not?"

"You have something better to do."

"I do not see how I can. This is the work that is given me."

"But any common person could do that?"

"We have not got the common person to do it," said Lois, laughing; "so
it comes upon an uncommon one."

"But there is a fitness in things."

"So you will think, when you get some of my young lettuce." The drills
were fast covered in, but there were a good many of them, and Lois went
on talking and working with equal spirit.

"I do not think I shall--" Mrs. Barclay answered the last statement.

"I like to do this, Mrs. Barclay. I like to do it very much. I _am_
pulled a little two ways this spring--but that only shows this is good
for me."

"How so?"

"When anybody is living to his own pleasure, I guess he is not in the
best way of improvement."

"Is there no one but you to do all the weeding, by and by, when the
garden will be full of plants?"

"Nobody else," said Lois.

"That must take a great deal of your time!"

"Yes," said Lois, "it does; that and the fruit-picking."

"Fruit-picking! Mercy! Why, child, _must_ you do all that?"

"It is my part," said Lois pleasantly. "Charity and Madge have each
their part. This is mine, and I like it better than theirs. But it is
only so, Mrs. Barclay, that we are able to get along. A gardener would
eat up our garden. I take only my share. And there is a great deal of
pleasure in it. It is pleasant to provide for the family's wants, and
to see the others enjoy what I bring in;--yes, and to enjoy it myself.
And then, do you see how pleasant the work is! Don't you like it out
here this morning?"

Mrs. Barclay cast a glance around her again. There was a slight spring
haze in the air, which seemed to catch and hold the sun's rays and
diffuse them in gentle beneficence. Through it the opening cherry
blossoms gave their tender promise; the brown, bare apple trees were
softened; an indescribable breath of hope and life was in the air, to
which the birds were doing all they could to give expression; there was
a delicate joy in Nature's face, as if at being released from the bands
of Winter and having her hands free again. The smell of the upturned
earth came fresh to Mrs. Barclay's nostrils, along with a salt savour
from the not distant sea. Yes, it was pleasant, with a rare and
wonderful pleasantness; and yet Mrs. Barclay's eyes came discontentedly
back to Lois.

"It would be possible to enjoy all this, Lois, if you wer