"There is none nearer than the pond," said Joshua, "unless you go to Graffam's; but they are so piggish, I would choke before I would ask water of them. The last time I went there, the old woman sent one of the young ones to tell me that the village folks were an unmannerly set, and she wanted them to keep their distance. I told the girl to give my love to her mother, and tell her that she was the sweetest poppy upon the plain. So you see that it wouldn't do for me to go there again; I might get my head cracked with one of Graffam's rum-jugs."
"I am not afraid to go," said Mary. "I have no doubt but that the blueberry parties are a trouble to Mrs. Graffam."
"Mrs. Graffam!" exclaimed Joshua, laughing. "Nobody else calls her anything but Moll, and her husband, Pete."
Emma now lifted Edwin from his seat upon the rock, and taking his hand, while Mary brought the bright dipper, they started for the log-house, which looked in the distance like a black stump.
"It is loving your neighbor better than yourself,"—said the little boy, looking smilingly up into Emma's face,—"I am sure it is, to come all this way with me."
"Well, we ought to love our neighbor better than ourselves," replied
Mary, who was walking behind. "We shall, Eddy, if we are like——"
"Like Jesus?" asked Eddy.
"Yes," said Mary. "He didn't love himself at all; but he loved us, even unto death."
"How wonderful!" said Emma. "Talk some more about him, Mary dear, if you please."
But they were now at the poor door, which swung upon its wooden hinges: they were about to knock, when they saw a forlorn-looking woman come from a dark closet, with a sick child in her arms.