"When did you do it, Nettie?"
"This morning before breakfast, mother. It's all ready, father, if you or Barry would take up my cot and the bed, and bring down the other bedstead. It's too heavy for me."
"That's what I call doing business and having some spirit," said her father. "Not sitting and letting your work come to you. Here, Nettie, I'll do the rest for you."
Nettie ran with him to show him what was wanted; and Mr. Mathieson's strong arms had it all done very quickly. Nettie eagerly thanked him; and then seeing him in good humour with her, she ventured something more.
"Mother's very tired to-day, father," she whispered; "she'll feel better by-and-bye if she has a little rest. Do you think you would mind helping me put up this bedstead?"
"Well, here goes!" returned Mr. Mathieson. "Which piece belongs here, to begin with?"
Nettie did not know much better than he; but putting not only her whole mind but also her whole heart into it, she managed to find out and to direct him successfully. Her part was hard work: she had to stand holding up the heavy end of the bedstead while her father fitted in the long pieces; and then she helped him to lace the cords, which had to be drawn very tight; and precious time was running away fast, and Nettie had had no dinner. But she stood patiently, with a thought in her heart which kept her in peace all the while. When it was done, Mr. Mathieson went out, and Nettie returned to her mother. She was sitting where she had left her. Barry was gone.
"Mother, won't you have something to eat?"
"I can't eat, child. Have you had anything yourself?"
Nettie had seized a remnant of her father's toast, and was munching it hastily.