"Restrain these transports, my dear Rosina," he said, as he folded the poor weeper to his kind heart, "or bring them as a thank offering to the good God, who has so miraculously saved us from want. Let us kneel down together, and while we return our sincere thanks for his great mercy, let us beseech him to keep us humble in prosperity, lest this reverse of fortune should render us proud and forgetful of our duty." Dorothy soon found herself quite at home with the good pastor and his amiable family. Dearly she loved the little ones. Her solitary life had given her few opportunities of cultivating the acquaintance of children, or of drawing out their affections. To her simple womanly heart, nursing the baby was a luxury, a romp with the older children, a charming recreation, a refreshment both to soul and body, after the severer labours of the day. When her evening lessons were concluded, the little flock would gather round her knees, by the red firelight, to hear her sing in her melodious voice, the ballads of "Chevy Chase," and "Lord Thomas and Fair Ellen," or tell the story of "Hans in Luck," or the less practical fairy tale of the White Cat. Harry, the eldest, a very sensible boy of nine years, greatly admired the ballad lore, but was quite sceptical as to the adventures of the cat princess. "I don't believe a word of it, Dolly," he said. "I never heard a cat speak. My cat is nearly white, but she never says anything but mew. I like the story of Hans, it sounds more like truth, for I think, I should have been just as foolish, and made no better bargains than he did." "Oh," cried little Johnnie, "I love the story of the dear Babes in the Wood, only it makes me feel so cold, when they lie down and die in each other's arms, in that big and lonely wood. Do tell it again, Dolly dear," putting his white arms around her neck, and kissing her, "I will not cry this time." Harry was quite a genius in arithmetic, and had asked his father, as a great favour, that he might instruct Dorothy in that most difficult of all sciences to one possessing a poetical temperament. "Now, Dolly, you must get the pence table by heart, I found it harder to learn than all the others. As to the multiplication table, that Rosey calls so difficult, and is always blundering at, that's mere play," and he snapped his fingers. "But this about the pound, shillings, and pence is very hard." "Oh no, Harry, that is the easiest of all," said Dorothy, laughing. "I have been used to add up money ever since I was a little child. Ask me what so many pounds of butter, at such a price, any price you like to name, comes to; and I think I can tell you correctly without table or book." "But who taught you, Dorothy?" asked the wondering boy, after having received correct replies, to what he considered, puzzling questions. "Necessity and experience," quoth Dorothy, "but I made a great many mistakes before I got into their method of teaching, and was sure that I was right."