come forth as a bridegroom from his chamber, to the flickering
raindrops on the road-side mullein, the world seemed to rejoice,
exultant in victory. Homely, cheerier sounds broke the outlined
grandeur of the morning, on which Margret looked wearily. Lois
lost none of them; no morbid shadow of her own balked life kept
their meaning from her.

The light played on the heaped vegetables in the old cart; the
bony legs of the donkey trotted on with fresh vigour. There was
not a lowing cow in the distant barns, nor a chirping swallow on
the fence-bushes, that did not seem to include the eager face of
the little huckster in their morning greetings. Not a golden
dandelion on the road-side, not a gurgle of the plashing brown
water from the well-troughs, which did not give a quicker
pleasure to the glowing face. Its curious content stung the
woman walking by her side. What secret of recompense had the
poor wretch found?

"Your father is here, Lois," she said carelessly, to break the
silence. "I saw him at the mill yesterday."

Her face kindled instantly.

"He's home, Miss Marg'et,--yes. An' it's all right wid him.
Things allus do come right, some time," she added, in a
reflective tone, brushing a fly off Barney's ear.

Margret smiled.

"Always? Who brings them right for you, Lois?"