From school they went to church, of course. A strange minister preached that day, and Nettie could not understand him always; but the words of the hymn and Mr. Folke's words ran in her head then, and she was very happy all church time. And as she was walking home, still the tune and the words ran in her ears,
"Jesus all the day long
Is my joy and my song;
O that all his salvation might see!"
So, thinking busily, Nettie got home and ran up stairs. What a change! It looked like a place very, very far from those gates of pearl.
Her mother sat on one side of the stove, not dressed for church, and leaning her head on her hand. Mr. Mathieson was on the other side, talking and angry. Barry stood back, playing ball by himself by throwing it up and catching it again. The talk stopped at Nettie's entrance. She threw off her bonnet and began to set the table, hoping that would bring peace.
"Your father don't want any dinner," said Mrs. Mathieson.
"Yes I do!"—thundered her husband; "but I tell you I'll take anything now; so leave your cooking till supper—when Lumber will be here. Go on, child! and get your work done."
There were no preparations for dinner, and Nettie was at a loss; and did not like to say anything for fear of bringing on a storm. Her mother looked both weary and out of temper. The kettle was boiling,—the only thing about the room that had a pleasant seeming.
"Will you have a cup of tea, father?" said Nettie.
"Anything you like—yes, a cup of tea will do; and hark'ye, child, I want a good stout supper got this afternoon. Your mother don't choose to hear me. Mr. Lumber is coming, and I want a good supper to make him think he's got to the right place. Do you hear, Nettie?"
"Yes, father."