"Don't reproach me, Aunt Dorothy; I can't bear it." "Didst thou think I came for that?" said Aunt Dorothy. "But belike I deserve it of thee." And with a voice a little sharpened by the feeling she strove to repress, Aunt Dorothy sent the curious neighbours to the right-about, and disposed of the two serving-wenches, by telling them the very fowls of the air were setting such lazy sluts as they were an example, and despatching them to gather up the scattered corn in the yard. Then she came again to Placidia, and taking her clasped hands in hers, said,-- "I've learnt many things, child, this last hour. I judged thee a Pharisee, and belike I've been a worse one myself. I've sat on the judgment-seat this many a day on thee. But I'm off it now. And may the Lord grant me grace never to climb up there again. I've wished for some heavy rod to fall and teach thee. And now it's come, it can't smite thee heavier than it does me. Forgive me, child, and let us both begin again." Placidia looked up, and meeting the honest eyes fixed on her, not in scorn but in entreaty, she sobbed,-- "I shall never have heart to begin again, Aunt Dorothy." "To begin what again?" said Aunt Dorothy. "Contriving and saving to make up all the things I have lost," replied Placidia. "I've been years heaping it together, and it's all gone in a night!" Aunt Dorothy looked sorely puzzled, between her desire to be charitable and her horror of Placidia's misreading of the dispensation. "Begin that again, my dear," she said, at last. "Nay; thou must never begin that again. It will never do to fly in the face of Providence like that." Placidia uncovered her face, but as her eyes rested on the desolation around her, she covered them again, and sobbed,-- "Just when there was to be one to save it all for, and make it worth while to deny oneself." "Nay," said Aunt Dorothy; "that's the mercy. That's precisely the mercy. The Lord will not let the child be a curse to thee. He will have it a blessing; so He says to thee as plain as can be, I give thee a treasure, not to make thee rage and stint and grudge, but to teach thee to love and serve and give, not to make thee poor, but to make thee rich. And He will go on teaching thee till thou openest thy heart and learnest, and thy burden falls off, and thy heart leaps up, and thou shalt be free. I know it by the way my heart is lightened now. He's smitten me down for my sitting in judgment on thee. Not that I'm safe never to climb that seat again. One is there before one knows, and the black-cap on in a moment. Some one is always near, I trow, to help us up." And turning from Placidia, she proceeded to a quiet survey of the ruins, which, under her brisk and discriminating hands, with such help as I could give, soon began to show some signs of order.