“Dear, dear!” said Melinda, after she had endeavored several times, quite patiently for her, to force a sprig to keep its place; “dear me, I don’t think we can ever make this ’ere wreath look like anything but father’s stump fences. Just see how that hemlock sticks out!”
“Well,” said Miss Elinor, “I like to see stump fences, very much indeed, Melinda. I think they are beautiful. The great roots look like the hands of giants, with the fingers stretched out to grasp something. So you see, I don’t mind if you make my wreath look like them.”
“Father says stump fences are the very best kind,” remarked Melinda, knowingly.
“I guess not the very best, Melindy,” Nell ventured to say.
“Yes, they are,” persisted Melinda, with a toss of her head; “father says they last forever,—and he knows, for he has tried ’em!”
The young teacher smiled, and turned away her head.
“Did you ever see a church dressed with evergreens, Miss Elinor?” asked one of the children.
“Often,” said the sick girl; "not here, in the village, but in the city. I have not been able to attend church much since we have been here. They entwine garlands around the high pillars, and put wreaths of laurel over the arched windows. The reading-desk and pulpit have their share too, and above the altar is placed a beautiful cross. Sometimes the font is filled with delicate white flowers, that are renewed each Sabbath as long as the evergreens are permitted to remain."
“I wish I could see a church looking like that,” remarked Nelly, stopping in her work, and looking meditatively about her.
“Miss Elinor,” said Melinda, “what do they mean when they say ‘as poor as a church-mouse?’ Why are church-mice poorer than house-mice?”