"And if they are new, they're the sort of things we couldn't ever use," added Ned.
"Boys, boys, that will do," commanded the minister, quickly.
The minister, with Paul's help, had the barrel nearly open by this time.
"It isn't from Sunbridge, is it?" asked Genevieve.
"No—though we get them from there sometimes; but this is from a little town in Vermont," replied Mrs. Jones. "We had a letter last week from the minister. He—he apologized a little; said that times had been hard, and that they'd had trouble to fill it. As if it wasn't hard enough for us to take it, without that!" she finished bitterly, with almost a sob.
"Rita, my dear!" murmured her husband, in a low, distressed voice.
Mrs. Jones dashed quick tears from her eyes.
"I know; I don't mean to be ungrateful. But—times have been a little hard—with us!"
Silent, and a little awed, the Happy Hexagons stood at one side. Genevieve, especially, looked out from troubled eyes. Very slowly Genevieve was waking up to the fact that not every one in the world had luxuries, or even what she would call ordinary comforts of living. Mrs. Jones, seeing her face, spoke hurriedly.
"There, there, girls, please forget what I said! It was very kind of those good people to send the barrel—very kind; and I am sure we shall find in it just what we want."