"
The old lady fumbled at her work till Marjorie came back to her with the
family Bible in her hands.
She laid the Bible on the table and moved her chair to the table.
"Where shall I read?"
"About Jacob and all his children and all his troubles, I never get tired
of that. He said few and evil had been his days and he was more than most
a hundred."
"Well," said Marjorie, lingering over the word and slowly turning back to
Genesis. She had opened to John, she wanted to read to the grumbling old
heart that was "afraid" some of the comforting words of Jesus: "Let not
your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
"Begin about Jacob and read right on."
With a voice that could not entirely conceal her disappointment, she
"began about Jacob and read right on" until Mrs. Rheid's light step
touched the plank at the kitchen door. There was a quiet joyfulness in
her face, but she did not say one word; she bent over to kiss Marjorie as
she passed her, hung up her gingham sun-bonnet, and as the tea kettle was
singing, poured the boiling water into an iron pot, scattered a handful
of salt in it and went to the cupboard for the Indian meal.
"I'll stir," said Marjorie, looking around at the old lady and
discovering her head dropped towards one side and the knitting aslant in
her fingers.
"The pudding stick is on the shelf next to the tin porringer," explained
Mrs. Rheid.
Marjorie moved to the stove and stood a moment holding the wooden pudding
stick in her hand.
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