sorry to let you know there is such
sorrow in the world."

"Why should I not know about sorrow?" asked Marjorie, gravely. "Must I
always be joyful?"

"I want you to be. There is no sorrow like this sorrow. I know something
about it; before I could believe that God had forgiven me I could not
sleep or eat."

"I always believed it, I think," said Marjorie simply.

"I want her to be with some one who loves her and understands her; the
girls scold her and find fault with her, and she has been such a good
mother to them; perhaps she let them have their own way too much, and
this is one of the results of it. She has worked while they slept, and
has taken the hardest of everything for them. And now in her sore
extremity they want to send her among strangers. I wish I had a home of
my own. If I can do no better, I will give up my position, and stay on
land and make some kind of a home for her."

"Oh, not yet. Don't decide so hastily. Tell Miss Prudence. Telling her a
thing is the next best thing to praying about it," said Marjorie,
earnestly.

"What now?" Miss Prudence asked. "Morris, this girl is an enthusiast!"

She was standing behind Marjorie's chair and touched her hair as she
spoke.

"Oh, have you heard it all?" cried Marjorie, springing up.

"No, I came in this instant; I only heard that Morris must not decide
hastily, but tell me all about it, which is certainly good advice, and
while we are at breakfast Morris shall tell me."

"I can't, before Prue," said Morris.

"Then we will have a conference immediately afterward. Deborah's muffins
must not wait or she will be cross, and she has made muffins for me so
many years that I can't allow her to be cross."

Morris made an attempt to be his usual entertaining self at the breakfast
table, then broke down suddenly.

"Miss Prudence, I'm so full of something that I can't talk about anything
else."

"I'm full of something too," announced Prue. "Aunt Prue, when am I going
to Marjorie's school."

"I have not decided, dear."

"Won't you please decide now to let me go to-day?" she pleaded.

Miss Prudence was sure she had never "spoiled" anybody, but she began to
fear that this irresistible little coaxer might prove a notable
exception.

"I must think about it awhile, little one."

"Would I like it, Marjorie, at your school?"

"I am sure of it."

"I never went to school. The day I went with you it was ever so nice. I
want a copy-book and a pile of books,