"My Lord, have I grudged Thee?" she said, her old eyes dimmed with rare tears. "Oh, forgive me, and let me do my part towards taking Thee in!" When the clock struck six she rose and softly went into the front room. With as little sound as possible she set Jem's breakfast, and lighted his fire; putting on the kettle and preparing his room against he should awake. After that she made some gruel for her daughter, on the clear little fire she had noiselessly kept up all night, and when all was done, she decided it was time to wake Jem. But when she entered his room again he was already up, all traces of fatigue gone from his face, and her own cheerful Jem stood before her. She signed to him that Meg was still asleep, and closing the door behind her, she set about making the tea, Jem asking her in a low tone what sort of a night his wife had passed. "Beautiful," said Mrs. Seymour; "she hasn't waked once since I put Dickie back; and while they're all asleep I want to talk to you, Jem. Shall we sit down and have a bit of breakfast, so as to be ready when we are wanted?" Jem willingly complied, and began at once on the subject that was uppermost in his mother's thoughts. "I dare say, mother, that you think as Meg and me must ha' gone crazy last night?" "I _did_ think so, but----" "It wasn't so bad as that," Jem went on, smiling slightly, "for Meg and me has often talked about Dickie and Cherry; and Meg had said if she got through this, she should do her best to find 'em, and try to teach Cherry somethin' or 'nother to get her livin'." Mrs. Seymour listened. She had intended to give her son a lecture on caution and rash haste, but since those words had shone out upon her, she could hear nothing but the tender "Inasmuch--ye have done it unto Me." How could she say anything after that? "Of course we neither of us thought on it comin' all of a heap like this, mother; and we didn't guess as our Lord was goin' to take away with one hand while He gave with t'other! But it's His doin', and we ain't goin' to grumble. Meg said, 'Blessed be the name of the Lord,' and if she could say it, I won't be behind her." Mrs. Seymour got up to poke the fire, and as she passed her son's chair, she bent and kissed his forehead in silence. "Dear mother!" he said affectionately, "I knew as it 'ud be a sore trial to you; but----" "Don't say a word more, Jem," she said; "I'll help you all I can, and after a bit we shall see how things turns out. If you decide to keep Cherry with you, and she is a good girl, I'll promise you as I'll let her share my bed; and there'll often be a bit of breakfast for her too. I 'ain't given so much to my Lord as that I can't spare a little more. I feel to-day as if I'd never done nothing for Him. 'Inasmuch'----!" "That's right down kind o' you, mother. If you'd seen all as I saw last night, you'd find it easier to understand what I felt." "Was it so bad, Jem? I never saw you take on like that before."