undertook to mind the children, the cattle, and the dinner in her
place; but what work he found it! When he tried to slice the onions
for the broth, little Ben toddled off, and had to be caught lest he
should tumble into the river. Then Rusha got hold of the knife, cut
her hand, and rolled it up in her Sunday frock, and Steadfast,
thinking he had got a small bit of rag, tied it up in Patience's
round cap, but that he did not know till afterwards, only that baby
had got out again, and after some search was found asleep cuddled up
close to the old sow. And so it went on, till poor Steadfast felt as
if he had never spent so long a day. As to reading his Bible and
Prayer-book, it was quite impossible, and he never had so much
respect for Patience before as when he found what she did every day
without seeming to think anything of it.

She did not get home till after dark, but the Blanes had taken her to
rest at the friends with whom they spent the time between services,
and they had given her a good meal.

"Somehow," said Patience, "everybody seems kinder than they used to
be before the fighting began--and the parsons said the prayers as if
they had more heart in them."

Patience was quite right. These times of danger were making everyone
draw nearer together, and look up more heartily to Him in Whom was
there true help.

But winter was coming on and bringing bad times for the poor children
in their narrow valley, so close to the water. It was not a very
cold season, but it was almost worse, for it was very wet. The
little brook swelled, turned muddy yellow, and came rushing and