the gold-paved streets, and all that, and is sure to bring in a Latin quotation.  After that, he sits down, and goes to twirlin’ that big jack-knife of his, and I can’t help thinkin’, though I know it’s wicked, that if he was to get to heaven as he expects, the very first thing he’d do, would be to whip out that knife, and go to scrapin’ away to get a little gold dust to put in his pocket; he! he! he!  Don’t look so horrified, Miss Graystone.  I suppose, now you think I’m dreadful ungrateful.  One thing I know, they’ll palaver you till you’ll think they was two pink and white angels that had slid down a rainbow, especially to make themselves agreeable to you; but Maria Mott’s no fool, and she knows what she’s a talkin’ about every time.”

Dr. Little had one other servant, a simple minded, ignorant boy by the name of Harvey.  He worked for his board, perfectly convinced that the pious teachings of the worthy couple were sufficient remuneration for such light services as were required of him.  Harvey was an humble member of the same church in which his employer was a shining light, therefore it was his privilege to listen, with a thankful spirit, to many precious pearls of wisdom that dropped from their revered lips.  In fact, Harvey was enveloped continually in the very odor of sanctity, whereby he was greatly profited.  Thus the promptings of his sinful nature were effectually stifled, and he grew each day, outwardly as well as spiritually, more ethereal, less “of the earth earthly.”

Maria Mott was wicked enough to say that it was because he did not get enough to eat, and to openly lament the change in the once bright-eyed, round-faced boy.

The worthy old Doctor, however, congratulated himself, and said he was fitting the boy for heaven.

Mrs. Little used to remain at the tea table to administer instruction, not, let us hope, as Maria averred, to watch Harvey so he wouldn’t eat so much.

“Harvey,” she asked, on one occasion, “are you not thankful that the Lord has given you so good a home?”

“Yes, Mis’ Little, keeps me pretty busy though to earn it,” came hollowly from the depths of a teacup.

“Mamma,” called young Charlie Little, over the banister, “I want Harvey to do an errand for me.  Will you please give him my order.  Here is a bright new silver piece for him, too.”

“Such extravagance, Charlie!” said his mother, but, coloring as Clemence passed her, “I want you to be generous to the poor, my son, I have always striven to inculcate the lesson of charity conscientiously.”

Mrs. Little was good-hearted and liberal.  Clemence felt sorry for having misjudged her, as she saw a bright silver piece glitter in her hand the next Sabbath, as she sat beside her during the weekly collection of contribution for the missionary fund.  Maria was wrong, and she was sorry she laughed when she spoke flippantly of Mrs. Little’s magnificent gift of a penny a Sabbath amounting to fifty-two cents annually.  She ought to be more careful to give people the benefit of the doubt.