Alice laughed, and then the tears almost rose in her eyes, as she softly smoothed Christie's fair hair. She knew full well the sensation of intense, miserable nerve-strain, for which the little girl strove in vain to find words. "'Tis hard to be patient, little Christie," she said tenderly. "But God knoweth it, dear heart; and He is very patient with us." "O Aunt Alice, I know! And I am so sorry afterwards, when I should have been quiet and patient, and I have spoken crossly. People know not how hard it is, and how hard one tries: they only see when one gives way. They see not even how ashamed one is afterwards." "Truth, sweet heart; but the Lord seeth." "Aunt, think you the Lord Jesus ever felt thus?" "He never felt sin, Christie; but I reckon He knew as well as any of us what it is to be wearied and troubled, when matters went not to His comfort. `The contradiction of sinners' covereth a great deal." "I wonder," said Christie plaintively, "if He felt as if it hurt Him when His brethren banged the doors! Friswith alway does when she comes; and it is like as if she struck me on the ears. And she never seems to hear it!" "I cannot tell, sweeting, what He felt in the days of His flesh at Nazareth; but I can tell thee a better thing--that He doth feel now, and for thee. `I am poor and needy, but the Lord careth for me.' Keep that in thine heart, little Christie; it shall be like a soft pillow for thy weary head." Alice rose to go home, and tied on her blue hood. "O Aunt Alice, must you go? Couldn't you tarry till Father comes?" "I think not, my dear heart. Tell thy father I had need to haste away, but I will come again and see both him and thee to-morrow." To-morrow! "Give him my loving commendations. Good-night, my child." And Alice hurried away. CHAPTER FOUR. TABBY SHOWS HER CLAWS. Friswith Hall was returning from Cranbrook in a state of great satisfaction. She had made an excellent bargain; and she was the sort of girl to whose mind a bargain had the flavour of a victory. In the first place, she had squeezed both coif and ribbon out of her money; and in the second, she had--as she fondly believed--purchased an article worth one-and-tenpence for eighteenpence. As she came up to the last stile she had to pass, Friswith saw two girls sitting on it--the elder a slender, delicate-looking girl of some fourteen years, the younger a sturdy, little, rosy-faced damsel of seven. They looked up on hearing steps, and the elder quitted her seat to leave Friswith room to pass. "Good-morrow, Pen! So you've got Patience there?" "I haven't much, I'm afraid," said Pen, laughing. "I came out here because the lads made such a noise I could scarce hear myself speak; and I wanted to teach Patience her hymn. Charity knows hers; but Patience learns slower." "Are they with you, then--both?" "For a few days. Mistress Bradbridge is gone to visit her brother at Chelmsford, so she left her little maids with Mother."