“I shall want some help, I suppose—a good deal of help. Can I depend on you, Jabez?”

“Well, I’ve been talking a little with grandpa about what I want to do this summer. He wants me to work along with Mr Grimes for a spell. You know, Fidelia, Grimes has got grandpa’s farm on shares this year, and he would like to hire me.”

“Well, and why not?”

“I can do better—that’s about it.”

“And what do you wish to do?”

“Well, that’s just what I want to talk about.”

“I shall be glad to have your help when you can be spared,” said Eunice.

Jabez seemed to have a difficulty in sitting quietly in his chair. He fidgeted about, and let his hoe fall, and then picked it up and carried it out into the porch; then laid his cap on the floor, and straightened himself up, and said gravely,—

“Look here, Miss Eunice, I guess it won’t hurt anybody just to have a little talk about it. I want you to let me have your garden this summer—on shares if you say so; but I’d rather pay rent for it.”

“Why, Jabez, you surprise me!” said Eunice gently.

Fidelia laughed.

“Go on, Jabez. Tell us all about it.”

“Well, I will. In the first place, I want to show grandpa that I can do something; and, in the second place, I want to make some money this summer. I think I see my way clear to do both, if things happen right.”

“And what do you want money for?” asked Fidelia.

“Oh, well, I guess ’most everybody wants money! But look here now. I have not told grandpa yet—it wouldn’t help me with him, but I’d as lief tell you two as not. Supposin’ we have Mr Fuller here again next winter, I’m willing to go to school here, and do chores for Miss Eunice and at grandpa’s next winter, as I have this winter. But if he doesn’t come here, I’m going to Scranton Academy. And if I do go, I expect I’ll have to help pay my own way.”

Fidelia nodded and smiled.

“But your grandfather? You must consult him, Jabez,” said Miss Eunice, gravely.

“I mean to—after a spell. But it isn’t best to worry him with too many new ideas at once. Now see here, Miss Eunice—this is the whole concern. There was a lot of city company in our town last summer, and the cry among them was for fresh fruit and garden sass. There’s going to be more of them here this summer, down the street in the hotel, and over at the Corners, and all around. This part of the state’s got to be quite popular with city folks, and I should like to have the chance to supply them early.”

“But do you know anything about a garden?” asked Fidelia, greatly interested.

“Well, yes. Grandpa has kept me pretty close to work in ours. I’ve been down to the judge’s some, too; and Sandy Scott, his gardener, has given me a good many hints, and has promised to see to my work a little. I am not afraid, not a mite. And if you’ll let me have your garden, grandpa’ll let me have his, I guess; and between the two I can make something, I know.”

“I should have to think about it first, Jabez.”

“Oh, yes. I am not in a hurry for a day or two.”

“And I shouldn’t like to do anything that your grandfather might object to. I should have to talk with him about it.”

“And what about your grandmother’s churn in the meantime?” Fidelia added.

“That’s so! I’d ’most forgot it. I must hurry up. Here’s the doctor!”

Fidelia was gently patting the loaf she had just put into the pan as the doctor came in.

“Good morning, Miss Eunice! Fidelia, that is after all the true woman’s work. ‘Loaf-maker’—or is it loaf-giver?—is the true derivation of ‘lady,’ they say. But I hope you have nearly done. Her mother could not spare Susie to come up this morning, so I promised I would send you down.”

“I should like to go, but—”

“Cannot you spare her, Miss Eunice? You can walk, Fidelia, you know, and when I come back from the Corners I’ll bring your sister down with me, if she will let me; and Susie shall drive you both home in the evening.”

When the doctor had driven off, Jabez once more looked in at the door.

“There is no particular hurry, Miss Eunice. Only I’ve had my hot-beds all agoing three weeks ago, and I’d like to know as soon as ever you’ve made up your mind.”

“To-morrow, perhaps, I’ll let you know about it,” said Miss Eunice.

When her sister had gone, Eunice moved about the house, giving a touch here and another there, till her bread was ready for the oven; and then she set the front door wide open and sat down in the porch, for the day was as bright and warmer than yesterday had been. She had much to think about. It did not take her long to decide that Jabez should have the garden, if his grandfather did not object. She had not strength for the garden now, and Fidelia would have a better visit. How bright and eager the child was, and how much she had accomplished!

“I knew she would do well; and I must not be discouraged, though she has not yet caught the spirit of the place. She has been so intent on her work, that she has given herself no time to think of higher things. But His time will come. ‘One thing have I desired of the Lord’ for my darling, and He will grant it, that I know, whether I shall see it in this world, or wait till we meet in the next, where her mother and mine await us both.”

She closed her eyes, and sat motionless till the sound of wheels reached her ears.

“The doctor! I will not go down with him, and I hope he will be willing to wait till Fidelia goes before he speaks. I will go out to the gate, and he may not come in to-day.”

She rose and stood waiting for him at the gate.

“Well, Miss Eunice, what do you think about going down with me? Do you feel like it?”

Eunice smiled, and shook her head.

“I think not, doctor. My bread is not all baked yet.”

“What is this I hear about the garden? Are you going to let Jabez have it, as he wishes it so much?”

“Hadn’t I better, doctor? Without Fidelia it would be too much for me, I am afraid. I could work in it a little for exercise, even if Jabez had it.”

“Yes, I see. I should not wonder,” said the doctor; but his eyes were turned to the clouds that hung over the distant mountains, and he was thinking not at all of Jabez and the garden. His face was very grave.

“What a good face it is!” thought Eunice, as she watched it—“a true friend’s face!”

It was a good face, strong and kindly—a face to inspire confidence. It was brown and weather-beaten, and showed many wrinkles, and the soft waving hair above it was as white as snow. But it was not an old face. The eyes were soft and bright, and the smile that came and went so readily upon it gave it a look of youth. Eunice could not remember the time when he had not been good and kind to her, and she loved him dearly. But she was a little afraid of him to-day. In a little, his eyes returned to her, standing at the gate.

“Miss Eunice, what am I thinking about? You must not stand there in the wind. I will