"I'll try," said Sara humbly, and took her departure, comforted and
inspired, as always, by this cheery old maid, whose lover had lain over
twenty years beneath the waves, never forgotten, never replaced, in the
strong, true heart of his unmarried widow.

When Sara reached home she found need for her patience at once, for the
baby was crying, and her mother looked cross and fretful.

"Wall," she said in her shrillest tone, as the door closed behind the
girl, "you've come at last, hev you? An' another book, I'll be bound!
Pity you couldn't turn into one, yourself; you'd be about as much use as
now, I guess!"

"Then we'd both be 'bound,' mother, wouldn't we?" trying to speak
lightly. "Give baby to me, won't you, you're tired."

She held out her arms to the screaming child, who went to her at once,
growing more quiet the moment he felt her tender clasp.

"There! Now I hope I kin git a minute to myself. Where you been, anyhow,
Sairay?"

"At Miss Prue's--she called me in. Mother, there's been a pin pricking
him! See here, poor little fellow!" and Sara held up the bent bit of
torture, then threw it into the fire, while the relieved baby smiled up
at her through his tears and cooed lovingly.

"It beats all how he likes you, Sairay!" said the mother in an
apologetic tone. "I never thought of a pin, an' it allus makes me ready