some of the leading ladies of the society held counsel with Delia Lamb, Mr. Payson's "hired girl," and agreed that she should do nothing about providing for their arrival, but leave it all to the ladies, who announced at the Wednesday sewingsociety that the congregation were invited to be at the parsonage at eleven o'clock Saturday morning, in order to prepare for and receive their minister when the one o'clock train should arrive. Mrs. Dodd liked to do her share in all such things, however small that must be. She was not disturbed by any false shame about sending little matters; but to-day she could not find anything available among her stores but a little jar of pickles. However, just after the Thursday evening meeting, Delia Lamb joined her; for Delia was from the same town where Mrs. Dodd had lived through her marriage, and had always kept up the old acquaintance.

"Stop a minute, Mis' Dodd; wait just a minute till I fetch my breath. I want ter see ye about somethin'. You've heered about this donation party, haint ye?"

"Yes, I have; and I mean to go too, Delia."

"I knew you would, you're on hand mostly when there's something to do. Lots of folks can talk, but there ain't so many to do. Now, if it ain't impudent to ask, what be you goin' to carry for vittles?”

"I haven't got anything but a jar of little cucumber pickles, Delia. I don't put up preserves, as many do; we can a little, just for sickness, but everybody will carry cake and canned fruit."

"Mercy to me, I guess they will! there'll be cake enough for a weddin', and stacks of biscuit, besides a bushel of pears and peaches, that'll spile, like enough, afore they get eat up; what there won't nobody fetch is jest what we'll want the most, an' I'm under bonds, as you may say, not to lift a finger to do a thing, and that's why I come to-night. I want you to make a loaf o' rye bread for the minister; he sets by fresh rye bread a sight: and I know you make it first-rate."

“I will,” said Mrs. Dodd; and having done her errand, Delia bid her a curt good-night, and turned off toward the parsonage.

"Mother!" said Happy, indignantly, "you won't send such a little thing to the minister's as a loaf of rye bread, will you?" - for Happy had her failings, like other people, and one of them was a certain pride of appearance; she might be willing to be poor, though that was doubtful, but to seem poor, even when it came to offerings given to the dear minister, this was hard. She could comprehend Mary's breaking her alabaster box of precious ointment over the feet of Christ, but never fully approved of the widow's mite; she would rather

have given nothing. Mrs. Dodd thought it was wise to answer only the outside of her question.

66

'Why, certainly I shall, Happy. I am glad to know just what he likes." And neither of them said any more about the loaf, till the expected Saturday morning arrived, and with the light sweet sphere in their basket, beside the brown pickle-jar, Happy and her mother set out for the parsonage.

CHAPTER X.

It was a splendid October day, the world outside was gay with color, and the brilliant trees, steeped in softened sunshine, only seemed to glow more deeply for the light veil of mist; the air was calm and sweet; not a breath of wind stirred the scarlet and yellow splendors of the maples and elms about the parsonage, but within all was noise and confusion when our friends arrived.

The house was old and simple; a coat of fresh paint made it look very white, and as to the blinds very green; but the furniture, the carpets, were inexpensive, and not new; for Mr. Payson had lived in Canterbury five years now, having come there with an invalid wife who had used her own taste as to furnishing, and, though she died within the year, had left her record in the cheerful rich coloring, the comfort, the real value and use of the articles she had chosen. The house lay fair to the south; both living-rooms and the kitchen had windows that way, and the minister's study and bedroom

were over the dining-room and parlor: a little room down stairs did duty as library; it was small, but held easily all the volumes not wanted up stairs. There were gay chintz curtains all about the house: nothing more costly, even in the parlor; and there the warm red carpet, the open fireplace with its shining brasses, and two or three fine engravings simply framed and hung low on the pale buff walls, made the room so attractive that all the splendors of Mrs. Palmer's best parlor, or Mrs. Holden's artistic, dim, tranquil drawing-room, could not give the guest such a sense of cheer and welcome as the homely brightness of this small square room. The dining-room was darker, and a wood-stove replaced the fire; but that too was of a homely hearty aspect always, and now, being dressed with boughs and garlands of gorgeous leaves, and the table at its full length, spread with all sorts of viands, it was hard to say which was pleasantest. All the house was fragrant with the last lingering flowers: sheaves of chrysanthemums shed their refined odor of bitter sweetness on the shelf in either room; baskets of mignonette, with here and there a late rose, and lavish branches of sweet verbena, seemed to welcome the company; and the crowd of people, laughing, talking, arranging and rearranging, as gifts poured in, were pleasant to behold, they seemed so happy.

Mrs. Dodd spoke to one and another, shook hands