This home was held on a peculiar tenure, which she had all but forgotten. Joanna's father and uncle had clubbed their money together to buy it for three lives: their own, and the life of Joanna's cousin, a lad fifteen years younger than herself, whose probable term of existence was so far longer than hers. But as her father paid the larger share of the purchase money, he had stipulated that Joanna should have the right of inhabiting the cottage on payment of a low rent to her cousin. When the three lives were ended the freehold went back to the original owner. It was nearly three years after Amos met with those adventures, which had formed the topic of endless conversations, before the postmaster succeeded in persuading him to resign his post and take the small pension due to him for his forty years' service. This step would make a radical change in their lives, and it was as important to him personally as the resignation of a prime minister. "We shall get along rarely," said Joanna, though with a shade of anxiety in her voice; "the garden is worth £12 a year to us; and when you're at home to help, we shall make more of it. We can hire a bit o' land, and grow more things, and your pension 'll be a grand help." "Surely! Surely!" assented Amos. "And, mother," said Charlotte gently, "let us remember the words of our Lord Jesus, how He said, 'Take no thought for the morrow—'" "Ay; but somebody must take thought," Joanna interrupted, "or how 'ud the work get done? How 'ud the seeds get sown, and the house minded, and food bought in? Thee and Amos mayn't take thought, but it falls upon me to do it." [Illustration: ONE MORNING, AFTER A NIGHT OF HEAVY RAIN, JOANNA SET OUT FOR THE POST OFFICE.] "But, mother," said Charlotte, "it means, 'Be not anxious for your life.' I used to puzzle over it hours and hours, because one must use forethought, till Mr. Seaford told me the words meant, 'Never be anxious.' Our Lord says, 'Your Father knows ye have need of these things'—food, and clothing, and shelter—and He will provide them. Yes, we shall get along finely." The question troubled no more any of the three simple souls. Amos was to give up his work at Christmas, when he would complete the fortieth year of daily work as a rural letter-carrier, and until then he or his wife would carry the letter-bags along the familiar roads. One morning late in October, after a night of heavy rain, Joanna set out for the post-office, leaving Amos at home in bed, bearing his rheumatic pains courageously and patiently. She made the fire up with a huge lump of coal which would smoulder for hours, until Amos got up.