er. She and her husband, Gardener Jim, lived so simply that it was a
small matter to prepare and clear away their meals, and, that being
attended to, what was there for her to do?

Phoebe had never been much of a scholar, and reading even the
coarse-print Bible, seemed to try her eyes. Knitting on Sunday was not
to be thought of, and there was nobody passing by to be watched and
criticised. Altogether Phoebe considered it a very dreary day.

As for Gardener Jim, he had his pipe to comfort him. All the same he
heaved a sigh now and then, as if to say, "O dear! I wish things were
not quite so dull."

In the big house near by lived Jim's employer, Mr. Stevens. There
matters were livelier, for there were living five healthy, happy
children, whose mother scarcely knew the meaning of the word quiet. When
it drew near two o'clock in the afternoon they were all begging to be
allowed to go to Sunday-school.

"You'll let me go, won't you, ma?" cried Jessie, the oldest, and Tommy
and Nellie and Johnny and even baby Clara echoed the petition. Mrs.
Stevens thought the thing over and decided that Jessie and Tommy might
go. For the others, she would have Sunday-school at home.

"Be sure to put on your high rubbers and your water-proofs and take
umbrellas." These were the mother's instructions as the two left the
family sitting-room. A few moments after, Jessie looked in again. "Well,
you are wrapped up!" exclaimed Mrs. Stevens, "I don't think the storm
can hurt you." "Neither do I, ma, and Oh! I forgot to ask you before,
may we stop at Gardener Jim's on the way home?"

"Yes, if you'll be careful not to make any trouble for him and Phoebe,
and will come home before supper-time."

Tommy, who was standing behind Jessie in the doorway, suppressed the
hurrah that rose to his lips. He remembered that it was Sunday and that
his mother would not approve of his making a great noise on the holy
day.

He and Jessie had quite a hard tramp to the little chapel in which the
school was held. The graveled sidewalks were covered with that
uncomfortable mixture of snow and water known as slush, which beside
being wet was cold and slippery, so that walking was no easy thing. Yet
what did that matter after they had reached the school?

Their teachers were there, and so was the superintendent, and so were
nearly half of the scholars. Theirs was a wide-awake school, you see,
and it did not close on account of weather.

Each of the girls in Jess