"But I hae naething to pay ye wi'!" said Vara, whose soul was great. "Hoot, hear to the lassie! I wadna tak' pay frae the Queen if she caaed in aff the road to drink a dish of tea. My man's the Netherby carrier. But tell me what's brocht ye here, wi' sic a bairn?" And Vara told her as much as was necessary. "To Liverpool to find your faither," said the woman. "Ye dinna stir a fit till the morrow's morn, and then ye can get a ride wi' our John as far as Netherby, at ony rate." Vara was more than grateful to her. She was the first person who had taken their quest seriously. So the carrier's wife kept them till night, and helped Vara to give the baby and Hugh a bath. Then she made Vara strip herself, and shut the door upon her till the girl had enjoyed such a tubful of warm water as she had never washed in before. As Vara was finishing and rubbing her slender, wearied body and blistered feet with a soft towel, the carrier's wife opened the door. "Put on these!" she said; "they were my wee Gracie's, and I canna bear to keep them in the house." Vara would have protested, but the woman shut the door with a slam. When Vara came out, Gavin was sitting on the carrier's knees and plucking at his beard. For "our John" had come in and heard their story. He was a wise carrier, and knew better than to attempt to interfere with his wife's benevolences. Then what was Vara's astonishment to find the babe also clad in a new frock, and giving rustling evidence of fresh underclothing. She could hear Boy Hugh's voice outside. He and Snap's master had made up the peace, and were now out somewhere about the barn, encouraging Snap to possess himself of another dinner of rat. The woman's wonderful kindness went to Vara's heart. "Ye shouldna, oh, ye shouldna!" she said, and bowing her head in her hands, she wept as she had never done in the worst of all her sufferings. "Hoot! can ye no haud your tongue, lassie?" said the carrier's wife. "So mony bairn's things were just a cumber and a thocht to me in this hoose. Our youngest (Tam there) is ten, an' we hae dune wi' that kind o' nonsense in this hoose. What are ye lauchin' at, guidman?" she cried, suddenly turning on the carrier, who had been quaintly screwing up his face. "I wasna lauchin'," said "our John," his face suddenly falling to a quite preternatural gravity. "They were juist a cumber and a care," continued the carrier's wife. "And they are better being o' some use to somebody." "Now ye will lie down and sleep in the back room, till the guidman starts on his round at five i' the mornin'." So the wearied children were put to bed in the "back room," and they fell asleep to the sound of psalm-singing. For the good carrier and his wife were praising the Lord. It is quite a mistake to suppose that most psalm-singers are hypocrites. Much of the good of the world is wrought by those who, being merry of heart, sing psalms. ADVENTURE XL. A NEW KIND OF HERO.