"O no, mother!" the little girl answered, cheerfully. She was panting, with her hand on her side, and her face had a quiet, very sober look; only at those words a little pleasant smile broke over it.
"I shall," said the woman. "One can't stand everything,—for ever."
The little girl had not got over panting yet, but standing there she struck up the sweet air and words,—
"'There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for you.'"
"Yes, in the grave!" said the woman, bitterly. "There's no rest short of that,—for mind or body."
"O yes, mother dear. 'For we which have believed do enter into rest.' Jesus don't make us wait."
"I believe you eat the Bible and sleep on the Bible," said the woman, with a faint smile, taking at the same time a corner of her apron to wipe away a stray tear which had gathered in her eye. "I am glad it rests you, Nettie."
"And you, mother."
"Sometimes," Mrs. Mathieson answered, with a sigh. "But there's your father going to bring home a boarder, Nettie."
"A boarder, mother!—What for?"