dinner. Take the broken knife and a milkpan and don't bring in so
much earth with them as you did last time. Dry your eyes and look
at the green things growing. Remember how young you are and how
many years are ahead of you! Go along, dear!"

Waitstill went about her work with rather a heavy heart. Was life
going to be more rather than less difficult, now that Patty was
growing up? Would she he able to do her duty both by father and
sister and keep peace in the household, as she had vowed, in her
secret heart, always to do? She paused every now and then to look
out of the window and wave an encouraging hand to Patty. The
girl's bonnet was off, and her uncovered head blazed like red
gold in the sunlight. The short young grass was dotted with
dandelion blooms, some of them already grown to huge disks of
yellow, and Patty moved hither and thither, selecting the younger
weeds, deftly putting the broken knife under their roots and
popping them into the tin pan. Presently, for Deacon Baxter had
finished the wagon and gone down the hill to relieve Cephas Cole
at the counter, Patty's shrill young whistle floated into the
kitchen, but with a mischievous glance at the open window she
broke off suddenly and began to sing the words of the hymn with
rather more emphasis and gusto than strict piety warranted.

"There'll be SOMEthing in heav-en for chil-dren to do,
None are idle in that bless-ed land:
There'll be WORK for the heart. There'll be WORK for the mind,
And emPLOYment for EACH little hand.
"There'll be SOME-thing to do,
There'll be SOME-thing to do,
There'll be SOME-thing for CHIL-dren to do!