THE miller's thrifty wife was not by any means a hard woman, but she lacked that quick sympathy for others which is generally the outcome of a vivid imagination joined to a kindly heart. She never realized the sorrows of her fellow-creatures without they were set plainly before her. And though she was in many ways much shrewder than her husband, she often made mistakes of which he would have been incapable. She had been a worker all her life, and consequently entertained a great contempt for idlers. And she believed that if people worked they always got on well, for that had been her own experience. She had lived rather a narrow life, with few interests outside her own family. Had it been otherwise, doubtless she would have known that sometimes God denies success—as the world counts success—to those who do their best and work their hardest. Thus it was, that rarely did any one come to her for help or sympathy, whilst many were the tales of woe which were poured into her husband's ears. When Mavis had hastened to her aunt requesting food for a hungry man, Mrs. John had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he must be a professional beggar, and therefore a dangerous character. Her eyes had shown her the real misery of his condition, however, so she had fed him. But she had not been possessed of sufficient discernment to notice that he was not an ordinary mendicant, so that when her husband informed her, a few days later, at dinner-time, that he had engaged the man she had so unwillingly assisted, to drive one of his waggons, she was greatly astonished. "You cannot mean it!" she explained. "Why, he was literally in rags! John, surely you are very unwise." "That remains to be proved, my dear," responded her husband, gravely, "but I hope I am not. The man is accustomed to horses; he has been in the employ of a farmer living near Woodstock, and I see no reason why he should not suit me, if he keeps the promises he has made me to be honest and steady. His name is Richard Butt, and he's twenty-five years of age, and has a young wife, who is at present living with her parents at Woodstock." "Then he doesn't support her? He has been out of work some time, I suppose? Why did he leave his last place?" "Well, he got himself into trouble, my dear; he was very frank about it, and I have made inquiries, and find he told me the truth. Remember, children," Mr. Grey proceeded, addressing the three young folks, who were present and listening with great interest, "this is not to go beyond our own household, you are not to speak of it to outsiders." "We will not!" they agreed eagerly.