“‘From God in the first place,’ she answered; ‘and he can always find a way.’
“‘Mother!’ said Mark, ‘there’s a great many apples in the road by Mr. Crab’s orchard.’
“‘Well, dear’—said his mother—‘they don’t belong to us.’
“‘But they’re in the road,’ said Mark; ‘and Mr. Smith’s pigs are there all day long eating ’em.’
“‘We won’t help the pigs,’ said his mother smiling. ‘They don’t know any better, but we do. I have cause enough for thanksgiving, Marky, in a dear little boy who always minds what I say.’
“Mark hugged his mother very tight round the neck, and then went immediately to sleep, and dreamed that he was running up hill after a pumpkin.
“But Mark woke up in the morning empty-handed. There were plenty of sunbeams on the bed, and though it was so late in November, the birds sang outside the window as if they had a great many concerts to give before winter, and must make haste.
“Mark turned over on his back to have both ears free, and then he could hear his mother and the broom stepping up and down the kitchen; and as she swept she sang.
‘Rejoice, the Lord is King;
Your Lord and King adore;