and long tried adviser and friend, for all that he had done for her children. "You are a fortunate mother," said the aged pastor, after he had listened to Gertrude's expressions of gratitude. "Those are two uncommon children that the good God has confided to your care, and I feel the greatest interest in them. The lad has a clear head, and a winning grace that draws everyone to him. Veronica is serious and conscientious; she has a calm steady nature and can be depended upon for fidelity to duty, such as it is rare to find. The children will be your stay and comfort in your old age. May you keep them in the paths of virtue." "With God's help;" said Gertrude, and she left the parsonage with tears of happiness in her eyes. As she passed the garden of her neighbor Judith, the latter called out over the low hedge, "They have just gone by, all four of them. It always seems to me strange that while all babies in the cradle look just alike, so that you can't tell them apart, they grow up to be such very different men and women." "No, no, these four were never alike," replied Gertrude, "but I agree that they grow more and more unlike every day." "Yes, that they do. And of you three near neighbors, you certainly have drawn the best lot in children," said Judith with enthusiasm, "two like your two are not to be found in a long day's journey. Veronica will fully repay you for what you have done for her." "I have been repaid long ago by the child's attachment to me. She has never given me anything but satisfaction ever since her mother died. If I have any anxiety about Veronica it is lest she over-work herself. There is something feverish in her love of work; she can never do enough. No matter how late I go into her room at night, she is always finishing off some piece of work; and no matter how early I get up in the morning, she has already begun something new. If I had not positively forbidden it, she would keep at it even on a Sunday. It is a real source of anxiety to me, lest she should over-work and break down." "Oh, I don't think you need be afraid of that, Gertrude; work never yet hurt any one, least of all the young folks. Let her work away. But I don't see the need of her scowling so all the time. She looks for all the world as if she were fighting and struggling against enemies and difficulties of all sorts. I like better Dietrich's laughing eyes; they are so full of fun. When he goes down the street singing-- 'Gladly and merrily Live to-day cheerily, Black care and sorrow Leave till to-morrow,' it goes right to my heart, and I could sing too for very joy. No one can help loving him." Gertrude listened with sunshine in her face to these words of praise, but a little cloud of anxiety shadowed her eyes as she said,