"Poor little foot!" rubbing it tenderly, smoothing the stocking over it,
and chafing it to bring warmth and life to its surface. Her "baby," she
called it, for it was no bigger than when he was a little fellow. "Poor,
tired foot! ain't it a dreadful long walk, sonny?"

"Pretty long, mother; but I'd take twice that to do such work at the
end."

"Yes, indeed, it's good work, and Mr. Surrey's a good man, and a kind
one, that's sure! I only wish some others had a little of his spirit.
Such a shame to have you dragging all the way up here, when any dirty
fellow that wants to can ride. I don't mind for myself so much, for I
can walk about spry enough yet, and don't thank them for their old
omnibuses nor cars; but it's too bad for you, so it is,--too bad!"

"Never mind, mother! keep a brave heart. 'There's a good time coming
soon, a good time coming!' as I heard Mr. Hutchinson sing the other
night,--and it's true as gospel."

"Maybe it is, sonny!" dubiously, "but I don't see it,--not a sign of
it,--no indeed, not one! It gets worse and worse all the time, and it
takes a deal of faith to hold on; but the good Lord knows best, and
it'll be right after a while, anyhow! And now _that's_ straight!"
pulling a soft slipper on the lame foot, and putting its mate by his
side; then going off to pour out the tea, and dish up the stew, and add
a touch or two to the appetizing supper-table.

"It's as good as a feast,"--taking a bite out of her nice home-made
bread,--"better'n a feast, to think of you in that place; and I can't
scarcely realize it yet. It seems too fine to be true."