and pushing chairs into their places. For half and hour the lads
buzzed about like a hive of bees, then the 'bus drove round, Father
Bhaer and Franz with the eight older boys piled in, and away they
went for a three-mile drive to church in town.

Because of the troublesome cough Nat prefered to stay at home
with the four small boys, and spent a happy morning in Mrs.
Bhaer's room, listening to the stories she read them, learning the
hymns she taught them, and then quietly employing himself
pasting pictures into an old ledger.

"This is my Sunday closet," she said, showing him shelves filled
with picture-books, paint-boxes, architectural blocks, little diaries,
and materials for letter-writing. "I want my boys to love Sunday, to
find it a peaceful, pleasant day, when they can rest from common
study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures, and learn, in simple
ways, lessons more important than any taught in school. Do you
understand me?" she asked, watching Nat's attentive face.

"You mean to be good?" he said, after hesitating a minute.

"Yes; to be good, and to love to be good. It is hard work
sometimes, I know very well; but we all help one another, and so
we get on. This is one of the ways in which I try to help my boys,"
and she took down a thick book, which seemed half-full of writing,
and opened at a page on which there was one word at the top.

"Why, that's my name!" cried Nat, looking both surprised and
interested.