Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha

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      "Home is the sphere of harmony and peace,

       The spot where angels find a resting place,

       When bearing blessings, they descend to earth."

       —Mrs. Hale.

      Cyril came running back carrying a covered basket.

      "He's gone, girls. He wasn't the Lord at all; only a man; and he didn't stay long; I guess 'cause he sat down on the tacks and hurted himself.

      "Here's our dinner. Mother says we may eat it out here under the trees and it'll be as good as a picnic."

      "So it will. Let's see what it is," and Zillah took the basket and lifted the lid. "Oh that's nice! buttered biscuits and cold tongue and cheese and ginger bread—lots of it—and a turnover apiece."

      "Isn't our mother good?" cried Ada gratefully. "Did you tell her about the Indian the berries?"

      "Yes; and father was there—he just came home—and he says we needn't be a single bit afraid; they don't kill folks now, and they wouldn't dare to hurt us right here in the town; even if they wanted to."

      "Baby's been fretting a little; 'cause she's hungry, I guess," said Zillah, putting a bit of gingerbread in the little one's hand.

      "Yes; mother said you should give her some cake; and she'll come directly and take her awhile. Now let's begin to eat, for I'm as hungry as a big black bear."

      "So am I," piped the small voices of Don and Fan. "But father always asks a blessing first."

      "Yes," assented Zillah, stopping short in her distribution of the good things; "and mother does it when he's away, but—" and she glanced from one to the other of the childish but grave faces of the little group.

      "I'll do it," said Cyril, closing his merry blue eyes and folding his chubby hands. "O Lord, we thank thee for the ginger bread and turnovers and—and all the good things, Amen. Now gi me mine, Zil," opening his eyes wide and holding out both hands.

      "Ladies first, you know," answered the sister, "and we must all spread our handkerchiefs in our laps to keep the greasy crumbs from our clothes."

      "Oh, yes; I fordot. Help Ada and Fan and yourself, then Don too, and me last 'cause we're the gentlemen."

      "No, myself last, because that's the way mother does."

      "And mother and father always do everything right," commented Ada, beginning upon her sandwich.

      They were rosy, healthy children and their appetites were keen; but they were not selfish or greedy, and the supply of food was more than amply sufficient for all.

      They were never stinted but had been taught that waste was sinful; so the remains of the meal were put carefully by in the basket, which Zillah then hung up on a branch near at hand.

      As she did so the others set up a glad shout, "Mother's coming!" and sprang forward to meet her, while baby held out her hands with a crow of delight.

      "Well, dears, had you plenty of dinner?" Mrs. Keith asked, taking Annis in her arms and sitting down on the buffalo robe while they grouped themselves about her.

      "Oh yes; yes indeed! some left; and it was very good. Thank you for it, mother."

      "You quite deserved it; you have been dear, good children, taking care of yourselves and baby all morning, and not giving any trouble to anybody."

      How the young cheeks flushed and the eyes grew bright at these words of commendation from those dear lips. How they loved her for them, and what an increased desire to merit her approbation they felt swelling in their breasts.

      She could stay with them only a little while but suggested various amusements, some games they might play, some stories Zillah might relate to the younger ones.

      "Are you getting done fast, mother? can we sleep in our own home to-night?" they asked.

      "No, dears; for though the bedroom floors are cleaned there might be some dampness that would injure us. We will go back to the tavern for our supper and to sleep to-night; but to-morrow night we will be in our own home once more."

      "Not the nice home we used to have, though!" sighed Zillah.

      "No, daughter; but we must try to be content and thankful; and if we are, we may be as happy in the new home as we were in the old."

      With that the now sleeping babe was laid gently down on the robe, a light covering thrown over her, and with a charge to the others to take care of her, and a caress bestowed upon each, the mother hastened back to the house.

      "We're tired running 'bout and picking flowers, Fan and Don and me," said Cyril; "so won't you please tell us a story now, Zil?"

      "Yes; I'll tell you Androcles and the Lion; you always like that."

      "Yes; and then tell 'bout the girl that had a silk dress and couldn't run and play 'cause her shoes pinched," begged Fan.

      "Oh look!" exclaimed Ada in an undertone, "see those girls. They haven't silk dresses or shoes to pinch their toes. Don't they look queer?"

      The subjects of her remarks were two little maids—one about her own size, the other a trifle smaller—who were slowly making their way through the bushes toward the spot where the Keith children were seated.

      They had sallow, sunburnt faces, tawny, yellow locks straggling over their shoulders, and their thin, lanky little forms were arrayed in calico dresses faded, worn and skimpy: pantalets of the same material but different color, appeared below their skirts. Their feet were bare, and on their heads were sunbonnets of pasteboard covered with still another pattern of calico both faded and soiled.

      "Shall we ask them to come and join us?" queried Zillah.

      "No; they don't look nice; they're dirty," whispered Cyril, with a glance of disgust directed toward the strangers.

      "Maybe dey is hungry," suggested Fan, "let's dive 'em some fing out o' de basket."

      "Good afternoon, little girls," said Zillah, raising her voice slightly as they drew near; "will you come and sit with us?"

      They shook their heads but came creeping on, each with a finger in her mouth.

      "Have you had your dinner?" An affirmative nod.

      "I'm going to tell a story to these children, and if you like to come and listen too, you can. What are your names?"

      "Mine's Emmaretta Lightcap, and hers is Minerva Lightcap. She's my sister, she is. Now go on and tell your story. Min, let's set down on the grass right here."

      They listened in open-mouthed wonder till summoned by a shrill voice from the direction of the smithy, when they rose and scampered away.

      The Keiths were a very domestic family; no place like home to them; and all, from the father down to little Fan, were heartily weary of the unsettled life they had led for some weeks past.

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