temper; I've borne it now for more than a year for your sake, and I
can bear it no longer. Surely I can get something to do; I'm sturdy
and healthy, and willing to do any kind of work."

Mary shook her head, and remained for a long time silent and
thoughtful. At length she said, with a solemn earnestness of manner
that almost made poor Stephen cry,

"You say that, for my sake, you have borne your master's unkind
treatment for more than a year; for my sake, bear it longer,
Stephen. Your patience must, and will be rewarded in the end. You
know how I have worked, day and night, ever since your poor father
died, when you were only a little infant in the cradle, to feed and
clothe you, and to pay for your schooling, for I was determined that
you should have schooling; you know how I have been cheered in all
my toil by the hope of seeing you, one day, getting on in the world,
And I know, Stephen, that you will get on. You are good, honest lad,
and kind to your poor mother, and God will reward you. But not if
you are hasty; not if you are impatient. You know how hard it was
for me to get you this situation; you might not get another; you
must not leave; you must not break your indentures; you must be
patient and industrious still; you have a hard master, and, God
knows, it costs me many at heartache to think of what you have to
suffer; but bear with him, Stephen; bear with him, for my sake, a
few years longer."

Stephen was now fairly crying and his mother kissed off his tears,
while her own flowed freely. Her appeal to his affection was not in
vain. He soon smiled through his tears, as he said,