e green room some time after, to find her
still rocking and singing to the wakeful Claude.

"You don't mean you haven't read your letter yet?" she said, in
astonishment.

"I have opened it. They are all well. I like to be sure of a quiet
time to read a letter."

"Well, take the lamp and go over there. I will take care of him for the
present."

"He is just asleep now," said Christie, hesitating. She was thinking
that she would like to have the room to herself before she read her
letter, but as Miss Gertrude seated herself in the low rocking-chair,
she had only to take the lamp and go to the other side.

She soon forgot Miss Gertrude, Claude, and all besides, except Effie and
the bairns at home. Effie had the faculty, which many people of greater
pretensions do not possess, of putting a great deal into a letter. They
were always written journal-wise--a little now, and a little then; and
her small, clear handwriting had come to be like print to Christie's
accustomed eyes. So she read on, with a smile on her lip, quite
unconscious that the eyes that seemed to be seeing nothing but the
bright embers were all the time furtively watching her. Miss Gertrude
longed for a peep into the unseen world in which her humble friend was
at that moment revelling. She felt positively envious of the supreme
content that was expressed on Christie's plain, pale face.

She would not have understood it had the peep been granted. She never
could have understood the interest which in Christie's mind was
connected with the various little items of news with which Effie's
letter was nearly filled. There was the coming and going of the
neighbours, a visit from blind Alice, and her delight in her canary.
There was an account of Jennie's unprecedented success in
chicken-raising, and of little Will's triumphant conquest of compound
division; and many more items of the same kind. There were a few
words--a very few--about the day Christie had spent in the cemetery with
John Nesbitt, which brought the happy tears into her eyes; and that was
all.

No, the best came last. The letter had been opened again, and a slip of
paper had been added, to tell how Effie had got a letter from Mrs Lee.
It was a very short letter, scarcely more than a line or two; but Effie
was to keep it safe to show to Christie when she came home. In the
meantime she must tell her that she had never in all her life been so
proud and happy as she had been when she r