As she spoke, Mrs. Wilkins dished up baked beans, Indian-pudding, and brown bread enough for half a dozen. Christie was hungry now, and ate with an appetite that delighted the good lady who vibrated between her guest and her children, shut up in the “settin’-room.” “Now please let me tell you all about myself, for I am afraid you think me something better than I am. If I ask help from you, it is right that you should know whom you are helping,” said Christie, when the table was cleared and her hostess came and sat down beside her. “Yes, my dear, free your mind, and then we’ll fix things up right smart. Nothin’ I like better, and Lisha says I have considerable of a knack that way,” replied Mrs. Wilkins, with a smile, a nod, and an air of interest most reassuring. So Christie told her story, won to entire confidence by the sympathetic face opposite, and the motherly pats so gently given by the big, rough hand that often met her own. When all was told, Christie said very earnestly: “I am ready to go to work to-morrow, and will do any thing I can find, but I should love to stay here a little while, if I could; I do so dread to be alone. Is it possible? I mean to pay my board of course, and help you besides if you’ll let me.” Mrs. Wilkins glowed with pleasure at this compliment, and leaning toward Christie, looked into her face a moment in silence, as if to test the sincerity of the wish. In that moment Christie saw what steady, sagacious eyes the woman had; so clear, so honest that she looked through them into the great, warm heart below, and looking forgot the fuzzy, red hair, the paucity of teeth, the faded gown, and felt only the attraction of a nature genuine and genial as the sunshine dancing on the kitchen floor. Beautiful souls often get put into plain bodies, but they cannot be hidden, and have a power all their own, the greater for the unconsciousness or the humility which gives it grace. Christie saw and felt this then, and when the homely woman spoke, listened to her with implicit confidence. “My dear, I’d no more send you away now than I would my Adelaide, for you need looking after for a spell, most as much as she doos. You’ve been thinkin’ and broodin’ too much, and sewin’ yourself to death. We’ll stop all that, and keep you so busy there won’t be no time for the hypo. You’re one of them that can’t live alone without starvin’ somehow, so I’m jest goin’ to turn you in among them children to paster, so to speak. That’s wholesome and fillin’ for you, and goodness knows it will be a puffect charity to me, for I’m goin’ to be dreadful drove with gettin’ up curtins and all manner of things, as spring comes on. So it ain’t no favor on my part, and you can take out your board in tendin’ baby and putterin’ over them little tykes.” “I should like it so much! But I forgot my debt to Mrs. Flint; perhaps she won’t let me go,” said Christie, with an anxious cloud coming over her brightening face.