"And Mother Carey's chickens?"

"Yes."

"Morris, I won't tease you with nonsense! What troubles you this
morning?"

"My mother," he said concisely.

"Is she ill? Miss Prudence wrote to her last week"

"Does she ever reply?"

"I think so. Miss Prudence has not shown me her letters."

"Poor mother. I suppose so. I'm glad she writes at all. You don't know
what it is to believe that God does not love you; to pray and have no
answer; to be in despair."

"Oh, dear, no," exclaimed Marjorie, sympathetically.

"She is sure God has not forgiven her, she weeps and prays and takes no
interest in anything."

"I should not think she would. I couldn't."

"She is with Delia now; the girls toss her back one to the other, and
Clara wants to put her into the Old Lady's Home. She is a shadow on the
house--they have no patience with her. They are not Christians, and their
husbands are not--they do not understand; Delia's husband contends that
she is crazy; but she is not, she is only in despair. They say she is no
help, only a hindrance, and they want to get rid of her. She will not
work about the house, she will not sew or help in anything, she says she
cannot read the Bible--"

"How long since she has felt so?"

"Two years now. I would not tell you to worry you, but now I must tell
some one, for something must be done. Delia has never been very kind to
her since she was married. I have no home for her; what am I to do? I
could not ask any happy home to take her in; I cannot bear to think of
the Old Lady's Home for her, she will think her children have turned her
off. And the girls have."

"Ask Miss Prudence what to do," said Marjorie brightly, "she always
knows."

"I intend to. But she has been so kind to us all. Indeed, that was one of
my motives in coming here. Between themselves the girls may send her
somewhere while I am gone and I want to make that impossible. When I am
captain I will take mother around the world. I will show her how good God
is everywhere. Poor mother! She is one of those bubbling-over
temperaments like Linnet's and when she is down she is all the way down.
Who would have anything to live for if they did not believe in the love
of God? Would I? Would you?"

"I could not live; I would _die_," said Marjorie vehemently.

"She does not live, she exists! She is emaciated; sometimes she fasts day
after day until she is too weak to move around--she says she must fast
while she prays. O, Marjorie, I'm