CHAPTER V.

THE GRATEFUL FAMILY.

ON their way home, Bessie's tongue ran very fast, asking questions about the poor family.

"Aren't you sorry for them, mamma? They are so very poor. I guess they were glad of something to eat. Where do they sleep, mamma? I didn't see any beds. Where do they make a fire, mamma? There wasn't any range in the room."

"That is true, Bessie, darling. I carried them tea and rice; and I meant to send John there to-night with potatoes, and meal, and pork; but where can they cook their food?"

"Aren't you glad, mamma, that you let me go with you? Perhaps you wouldn't have remembered about the fire."

"Yes, dear."

Mrs. Corwin answered as if she were thinking of something else; and so she was, for suddenly she spoke to John:—

"I must go to the tinman's," she said. "I saw the other day that he had a number of old stoves there; and I want to get one for my poor family."

She found a very good second-hand cooking-stove, with a teakettle, spider, and iron pot, which, when the tinman knew the circumstances, he said he would sell for seven dollars.

"John will tell you to-night," the lady answered, "whether I conclude to take it."

And then she drove on to the house of a friend.

"You may stay in the carriage, Bessie," mamma said. "I shall only be gone a few minutes."

"Thank you for letting me know," said her friend, following her to the door, after a short call. "I'll be sure and send round some cooked food."

"And I shall see about that cottage you think is empty, as soon as Mr. Corwin comes home," answered mamma. "See, Bessie," she said, holding up five dollars, "Mrs. Alcott gave me this; and she's going to speak to some of her neighbors about Mrs. Bell this very afternoon."

Mr. Corwin entered into the work of helping the poor family with all the zeal his wife could wish. He agreed that the old hut was very unsafe quarters, and that the sooner the family could be moved the better.

They rode two or three miles before they found any place within the means of a laboring man, for Mr. Corwin did not mean to support the family, but only to put them in a way of supporting themselves.

The cottage they engaged at last, was the one next to Grandma Blake's.

"We will send the stove here," papa said, "and I think some of that old furniture in our attic might be acceptable."

"Yes, there is an oak table, and some chairs. I can buy a couple of cheap bedsteads with the money Mrs. Alcott gave me. O James!" she added, her face beaming with smiles. "What a pleasure it is to do good!"

Mr. Corwin gave his wife a glance full of affection and then went on:—

"It is a good time of the year for the man to get work. Of course he must have help till he recovers his strength. Did he look as if he had been very sick?"

"Yes, indeed. Can John carry the things to the cottage in the morning?"

"I'm afraid he'll be busy cultivating the garden then. Let me see! It is only seven now. He can get them all in order to-night. I don't see why they shouldn't sleep there instead of lying in that old rickety hut."

"Oh, thank you, James! Do let us hurry home; and I'll see what I can find in the attic."

The business of the day was over at the house, and both cook and Nancy were eager to help their kind mistress.

While John went for the stove, Mr. Corwin and the cook brought down the table, four chairs, a palm-leaf mattrass, two broken-handled pitchers, and an old-fashioned sink, with cupboards underneath.

Nancy, meanwhile, swept the rooms and made ready for the new-comers.

It was almost nine before John was ready to start for the poor family. He had one of the work-horses harnessed into the cart, so as to bring them and their great iron-bound chest, the only thing Mrs. Corwin remembered to have seen in the house. At the same time, Mrs. Corwin with her husband, were going to invite them to remove to their new quarters.

It was a bright moonlight evening in June, and even at nine o'clock people were sitting at their doors enjoying the balmy air.

When Mr. and Mrs. Corwin drew up before the pathway leading to the hut, no person was in sight about the dwelling. Tying his horse to a tree near by, the gentleman followed his wife to the door.

Putting up her hand, she motioned him to listen. "Mr. Bell is praying," she whispered.

It was the voice of a man earnestly thanking the Lord for all his mercies, for food, clothes, and the words of kindness and cheer.

"What a lesson!" murmured Mr. Corwin.

The lady, approaching nearer, could look within the room. In the moonlight she could see that the father, Mother, and two eldest children knelt on the bare floor, their hands clasped before them. The two babies lay asleep on the straw.

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