"Where are we? Is this heaven? Tell me quick!"
What a merry tea-table it was; how they talked and laughed, and almost cried by turns! and even baby seemed to realise that some great event had happened, and laughed and crowed appropriately.
After tea, when they talked it all over, Frank said:—
"Who but you would have thought of all this? How happy we shall be here, and I owe it all to you!"
"You forget Mrs. Macpherson," Faith said.
"Yes, and the gasoline stove; but for that it seems this could not have been accomplished," said her husband.
"We both forget the dear Father in heaven," Faith said, in reverent tones, "that we owe everything to him alone."
By a mutual impulse they knelt down, and the husband, in a few words of prayer, consecrated this new home to the Lord, and themselves anew to his service, thereby feeling added dignity and joy in his manhood, now that "he was a priest in his own house" indeed.
So the months go on in peace and joy. Faith sings at her work, and baby plays in the garden, and Frank Vincent thinks there is but just one woman in the whole world that knows how to cook. The plan failed in no particular; the magical stove has proved itself a most efficient servant, and moreover, Faith manages to lay aside a snug sum every week.