fted up her voice and wept."

"Behold, she watereth her linen with salt tears, and bewaileth herself
because of much tribulation. But, lo! Help cometh from afar: a strong
man bringeth lettuce wherewith to stay her, plucketh berries to comfort
her withal, and clasheth cymbals that she may dance for joy."

The voice came from the porch, and, with her hope fulfilled, Nan looked
up to greet John Lord, the house-friend, who stood there with a basket
on his arm; and as she saw his honest eyes, kind lips, and helpful
hands, the girl thought this plain young man the comeliest, most
welcome sight she had beheld that day.

"How good of you, to come through all this heat, and not to laugh at my
despair!" she said, looking up like a grateful child, as she led him in.

"I only obeyed orders, Nan; for a certain dear old lady had a motherly
presentiment that you had got into a domestic whirlpool, and sent me as
a sort of life-preserver. So I took the basket of consolation, and came
to fold my feet upon the carpet of contentment in the tent of
friendship."

As he spoke, John gave his own gift in his mother's name, and bestowed
himself in the wide window-seat, where morning-glories nodded at him,
and the old butternut sent pleasant shadows dancing to and fro.

His advent, like that of Orpheus in hades, seemed to soothe all
unpropitious powers with a sudden spell. The Fire began to slacken, the
kettles began to lull, the meat began to cook, the irons began to cool,
the clothes began to behave, the spirits began to rise, and the collar
was finished off with most triumphant success. John watched the
change, and, though a lord of creation, abased himself to take
compassion on the weaker vessel, and was seized with a great desire to
lighten the homely tasks that tried her strength of body and soul. He
took a comprehensive glance about the room; then, extracting a dish
from he closet, proceeded to imbrue his hands in the strawberries'
blood.

"Oh, John, you needn't do that; I shall have time when I've turned the
meat, made the pudding and done these things. See, I'm getting on
finely now:--you're a judge of such matters; isn't that nice?"

As she spoke, Nan offered the polished absurdity for inspection with
innocent pride.

"Oh that I were a collar, to sit upon that hand!" sighed John,--adding,
argumentatively,

"As to the berry question, I might answer it with a gem from Dr. Watts,
relative to 'Satan' and idle hands,' but wil