Meg's eyes lost their troubled look, and brightened up into their own serene sweetness under his earnest gaze.
"And so," he pursued, "the matter seems to me to stand like this: 'Is this what your dear little hand finds to do, or ain't it?'"
Meg sat thoughtfully silent for a few moments, and Jem got his hat. Then he came over to bid her good-bye.
"I won't forget the flour, little woman."
"And I won't forget what you've said, Jem. I think my hand does find it to do."
He kissed her tenderly.
"If we bring everythin' as we're doubtful of to whether He would like it——"
Meg nodded; and then he was gone, and she stood alone.
But in a moment his step was heard coming up, and his bright face peeped in.
"How much yeast did you say?"