'No, sir'

'Nor read the Bible?'

'No, not very often--I don't get time.'

'You surely have time on the Sabbath-day?'

'Oh, sir, that is the only leisure day I have, and then I like to take
little James, and go with him to his father's grave, and when I get
back, there's tea to make, (I never have tea but on Sundays, sir,) and
somehow the time slips away till dark, when I go to bed. I can't afford
to light a candle on Sunday nights.'

'Do you never visit your neighbours on that day?'

'Oh no, sir, since my husband died, I have not cared for going out, and
a lone woman like me is but poor company for others, so they never come
to see me.'

'You tell me of visiting your husband's grave--when you stand over it,
do you ever think of the time you will meet him again?'

'Not often; he used to talk to me about it, but I never can think of
anything but _him_, just as he lived, and I remember a great many kind
things he used to say, and speak them over to the baby (little James--he
was named for his father, sir,) in his own words.' And the poor woman
bent over her work, and plied her needle faster than ever.

'It is natural,' said Mr Maurice, kindly, 'that you should remember your