"What did you do to-day?" he asked, by way of suggesting a remedy. Bertha brushed away her tears with her hand. "Well," she said, "I was busy in the breakfast-room, making those toilet mats for the missionaries, and the room was rather—" "Snippy," suggested Norman. "Yes—well, it was no harm; it was Saturday, and I was free to do it. And I wanted to finish a set, because I thought if Aunt Helen came this afternoon, I would get her to buy them—for the missionaries, you know. But Aunt Esther said she could not have such a mess all over the place, and began gathering my things together, and I felt cross, and begged her to wait and let me put them up; and she went on, and my bottle of gum got spilled between us, and went over the pink satin, and spoilt ever such a lot." "What a shame," said the boy, flushing. "Yes, it was; but, oh, I flew in such a passion. I stamped about the room, and said all the nasty things I could think of; and when I hadn't any more words left, she just said, coldly, 'That is what you call working for Christ, do you? You will not show your things to Aunt Helen this afternoon, Bertha,' and left the room." Norman turned crimson, and Bertha saw his sympathy in his face. "And so I came out here," she said, sorrowfully. "It was quite true—that part of it—how dreadful it was of me to be in such a temper over His work, Norman! Now I don't know what to do. Shall I burn them all, and never do any more, if I can't be a better girl." Norman's brown hand was stretched out and took hold of her little one. "Poor kiddie," he said, softly. "What can I do, do you think?" she asked, anxiously. "Not burn the things!" he said, decidedly. "I think—I'm not much of a hand at good sort of talk, you know—but if we've done wrong—if we know we have—" Bertha nodded. "Then mother always says we ought to ask God to forgive us, and—you won't like me to say it—and Aunt Esther. Mother says then we can begin again, you know. Only it's awfully hard—" Bertha raised herself from the ground. "Yes, Norman," she said, solemnly, "I see. I'll do it. Ask God first, then Aunt Esther. I will." CHAPTER XII. BLACKBERRYING. "I WONDER why it's been such a good year for fruit?" said a little boy, looking up in the face of an elder one who was resting against a stile, still keeping a crutch in his hand and leaning on it, while a basket of blackberries lay at his feet. "I suppose there has been just enough rain and just enough sun to suit them, Tommy!" The tone made Tommy look up, and then his eyes wandered to the crutch, and back again to the patient face wistfully. "If the blackberry hedges had nothing but sun, they would be scorched up, Tommy, boy! And if my life had been all pleasure, perhaps there would have been no fruit on my bush!" "Fruit?" "Yes, don't you remember how the lesson in Sunday School, yesterday, was 'He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit?'" "Oh, I see!" said Tommy.