Nellie laid down the book she had been reading aloud and looked anxiously at her father. This was the third day they had been at Morristown, and it was the first time her father had uttered any word of complaint. The change had been restful, and he had enjoyed it thoroughly. There had been so many things to see and to talk about with his brother that he hardly missed the separation from Glendow. A sense of glad freedom had been his. There was no responsibility of parish work, and no long, tiresome drives ahead. He need not worry about sermons for the following Sunday, nor feel concerned for any who might be sick. It was a luxury to sit there quietly in the large, airy room with the fresh breath of spring pervading the place, and to watch the trees putting forth their tender leaves and the fields donning their robe of green, yellow and white. Occasionally Nellie read to him from some favourite author, although much of her time was taken up helping her aunt with various household duties. The change which she beheld in her father caused her much joy. "It is just what he needs," she thought. "A good rest will restore him more than anything else." So now on this bright afternoon to hear him complain of being side-tracked, of no use in the world, worried her.
"You must remember, father dear," she replied, "it is well to be side-tracked sometimes. Engines are often laid by for repairs, and I have heard you say that we need rest that mind and body might be strengthened."
"True, very true, Nellie. But I seem to be useless. There are so many things to be done, and but little time in which to do them. When one has been engaged in a work for over thirty years it is not easy to lay it suddenly aside. It becomes part of one's life. Some may think that rest is sitting still and doing nothing. But to me such a thought is terrible. 'Rest,' as a great poet has well said, 'is not quitting life's busy career. Rest is the fitting of self to one's sphere!'"
"Yes, father, but did not blind old Milton say that 'They also serve who only stand and wait.'"
"But how am I serving, Nellie? What is there for me to do here? I sit all day long and think, while others serve me."
"Father," Nellie replied after a brief silence, "I believe a stroll would do you good. You have been staying in the house too much. I have discovered some very pleasant walks out from the village, and, if it will not weary you, suppose we start off now."
Her father looked up quickly at the suggestion.
"Capital!" he exclaimed. "It's just what I need. I am becoming too moody, and the fresh air will revive me."
He was almost like a child now in his eagerness to be off. With his stout cane in one hand, and leaning upon his daughter's arm, he moved slowly along the dry road, through the village and out into the country where the houses were few.
"Oh, this is life, grand, true life!" and he stood for a few minutes looking far away across the broad fields. The air laden with the freshness of spring drifted about them; the birds flitting overhead were pouring forth their joyous music, while on every side early flowers were lifting their tiny heads. All nature seemed to combine to give a glad welcome to these two wayfarers.