not somebody
else be found to do it?"

"We could not afford the somebody, Mrs. Barclay."

It was not doubtfully or regretfully that the girl spoke; the brisk
content of her answers drove Mrs. Barclay almost to despair.

"Lois, you owe something to yourself."

"What, Mrs. Barclay?"

"You owe it to yourself to be prepared for what I am sure is coming to
you. You are not made to live in Shampuashuh all your life. Somebody
will want you to quit it and go out into the wide world with him."

Lois was silent a few minutes, with her colour a little heightened,
fresh as it had been already; then, having tramped all round her new
bed, she came up to where Mrs. Barclay and her basket of seeds were.

"I don't believe it at all," she said. "I think I shall live and die
here."

"Do you feel satisfied with that prospect?"

Lois turned over the bags of seeds in her basket, a little hurriedly;
then she stopped and looked up at her questioner.

"I have nothing to do with all that," she said. "I do not want to think
of it. I have enough in hand to think of. And I am satisfied, Mrs.
Barclay, with whatever God gives me." She turned to her basket of seeds
again, searching for a particular paper.

"I never heard any one say that before," remarked the other lady.

"As long as I can say it, don't you see that is enough?" said Lois
lightly. "I enjoy all this work, besides; and so will you by and by
when you get the lettuce and radishes, and some of my Tom Thumb peas.
And I am not going to stop my studies either."

She went back to the new bed now, where she presently was very busy
putting more seeds in. Mrs. Barclay watched her a while. Then, seeing a
small smile break on the lips of the gardener, she asked Lois what she
was thinking of? Lois looked up.

"I was thinking of that geode you showed us last night."

"That geode!"

"Yes, it is so lovely. I have thought of it a great many times. I am
wanting very much to learn about stones now. I thought always _till_
now that stones were only stones. The whole world is changed to me
since you have come, Mrs. Barclay."

Yes, thought that lady to herself, and what will be the end of it?

"To tell the truth," Lois went on, "the garden work comes harder to me
this spring than ever it did before; but that shows it is good for me.
I have been having too much pleasure all winter."

"Can one have too much pleasure?" said Mrs. Barclay discontentedly.

"If it makes one unre