There had been seasons of famine and distress, too, when neighbors had been obliged to turn to each other for aid, and the higher and diviner attributes of mankind had shone forth as gold from the crucible, and others, alas! had been proven so encased in the rock of selfishness that when Famine’s gaunt wolf howled about they thought only of themselves and their own safety, and consoled their consciences by quoting, “Charity begins at home.” But these trials had drawn the little community more closely together, and the habit of calling each other by the first name became general, showing the unity of feeling among them. Nathan, owing to his winter employment, escaped the privations common to many, and Mark, also, had not to depend upon the mutability of the seasons for a livelihood. Lissa had grown fully in the enjoyment of her home; and in the company of her bright-eyed little daughter, who pattered about the house, adding to her joy as well as care, she realized the ideal life of a mother. What is it to her that away in the East the luxuries of life are magnified, and things unessential to her are there necessities? She has enough to eat, enough to wear, so far as comfort demands; and the fashion periodical which is sent to her each month keeps her in touch with the outside world. She can fashion the simple fabrics which serve to replenish her wardrobe after the latest modes. She reads the daily papers, sent to her in bundles six or eight at a time, and is familiar with the doings of metropolitans. If the time shall ever come when she shall need to go back to city life she will be ready. Look at her now as she steps to the door in anticipation of Nathan’s home-coming. Her shining ringlets hang about her fair face in the way her husband loves best to see them; her arched, short upper lip describes the Cupid’s bow over the full under one, and her large, luminous black eyes, gleaming with slumbering fires, look out upon the smooth, sunlit expanse before her. She is a beautiful and charming picture of a happy and contented wife. A half hour later Nathan entered and greeted the little woman tenderly, while he noted with the eye of love the pallor of the upturned face. “I am afraid the care of baby and all is getting to be too much for you again,” he said. “I must get Neoka back from the post to help you. I think she will prove more tractable, now the Quakers have had her in charge so long. I want you to get out more. You are getting to look too much like a cellar plant. Besides, we have visitors coming and I want you to have time to enjoy them.” Lissa’s eyes dilated eagerly. “O Nate, it can’t be—Who is it? It _can’t be_—_mamma_?” “Yes, dear, and Donald.” “Mamma and Donald? But how did they come together? Where are they? O Nate, I don’t understand!” And Lissa pressed her hand to her heart.