"There's a piece of beef, Sally, of mother's own curing—all ready cooked—so you'll have nothing to do but cook your potatoes—and mother thought you'd like a few of our potatoes, they're good this year. Then here is a little paper of tea she sent you, and I've brought you one of my own pumpkin pies—so you must say it is good, Sally."
"Well I'm beat!" said Sally. "Haint you got something else?"
She was like to be beat on all hands; for Mr. Linden who had been examining the window while Faith emptied her basket, now went out and presently brought back hammer and nails and strips of lath, that made Faith wonder whether he had brought a tool-chest along. But the noise of his hammer was much more cheerful than the rattling of the window, and when it had done its work outside as well as in, the wind might whistle for admission in vain. He came in and stood by the fire for a moment then, before they set off, and asked Faith softly what else was wanted? And Faith whispered in answer—
"'The Dairyman's Daughter?' but you must give it."
"Can't you get some comfort in reading your Bible, Sally?" said Faith while Mr. Linden went out to the sleigh with his hammer and nails.
"Laws!" said Sally—"what's the use! I haint got the heart to take the trouble to read, half the time."
"If you read one half the time, and pray too, Sally, you'll soon get heart for the other half."
"It's easy talkin'"—was Sally's encouraging view of the case.
"It's a great deal easier doing," said Faith. "If you try it, Sally, it'll make you so glad you'll never say you want comfort again."
"Well you've brought me a heap to-day anyhow," said Sally. "Just look at that winder! I declare!—I 'spect I'll make out to eat my dinner to-day without scolding."