or window. It was no wonder the farmer should he at his wits' end to
know what, as churchwarden, guardian of the poor, and friend of the
late vicar--as friendly also to the boy himself, he was bound to do.

"Where are _you_ going?" he asked Sarah.

"Where the Lord wills," answered the old woman. Her ark had gone to
pieces, and she hardly cared what became of her.

"We've got to look to ourselves!" said the farmer.

"Parson used to say there was One as took that off our hands!" replied
Sarah.

"Yes, yes," assented Mr. Goodenough, fidgeting a little; "but the
Almighty helps them as helps themselves, and that's sound
doctrine. You really must do something, Sarah! We can't have you on
the parish, you know!"

"I beg your pardon, sir, but until the child here is provided for, or
until they turn us out of the parsonage, I will not leave the place."

"The furniture is advertised for sale. You'll have nothing but the
bare walls!"

"We'll manage to keep each other warm!--Shan't we, Clare?"

"I will try to keep you warm, Sarah," responded the boy sadly.

"But the new parson will soon be here. Our souls must be cared for!"