“What are you going to do, Mary?” asked Mrs. Caldwell.  “Your husband won’t be fit for work in a month, and you have a good many mouths to fill.”

“A woman’s wit and a woman’s will can do a great deal,” answered Mrs. Brady, cheerfully.  “You see”—­pointing to a table, on which lay a bundle—­“that I have already been to the tailor’s for work.  I’m a quick sewer, and not afraid but what I can earn sufficient to keep the pot boiling until John is strong enough to go to work again.  ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way,’ Mrs. Caldwell.  I’ve found that true so far, and I reckon it will be true to the end.  John will have a good resting spell, poor man!  And, dear knows, he’s a right to have it, for he’s worked hard, and with scarcely a holiday, since we were married.”

“Well, well, Mary,” said Mrs. Caldwell, in manifest surprise, “you beat me out!  I can’t understand it.  Here you are, under circumstances that I should call of a most distressing and disheartening nature, almost as cheerful as if nothing had happened.  I expected to find you overwhelmed with trouble, but, instead, you are almost as tranquil as a June day.”

“The truth is,” replied Mrs. Brady, drawing, almost for shame, a veil of sobriety over her face, “I’ve had no time to be troubled.  If I’d given up, and set myself down with folded hands, no doubt I should have been miserable enough.  But that isn’t my way, you see.  Thinking about what I shall do, and their doing it, keep me so well employed, that I don’t get opportunity to look on the dark side of things.  And what would be the use?  There’s always a bright side as well as a dark side, and I’m sure it’s pleasant to be on the bright side, if we can get there; and always try to manage it, somehow.”

“Your secret is worth knowing, Mary,” said Mrs. Bland.

“There’s no secret about it,” answered the poor woman, “unless it be in always keeping busy.  As I said just now, I’ve no time to be troubled, and so trouble, after knocking a few times at my door, and not gaining admittance, passes on to some other that stands ajar—­and there are a great many such.  The fact is, trouble don’t like to crowd in among busy people, for they jostle her about, and never give her a quiet resting place, and so she soon departs, and creeps in among the idle ones.  I can’t give any better explanation, Mrs. Bland.”

“Nor, may be, could the wisest philosopher that lives,” returned that lady.

The two friends, after promising to furnish Mrs. Brady with an abundance of lighter and more profitable sewing than she had obtained at a clothier’s, and saying and doing whatever else they felt to be best under the circumstances, departed.  For the distance of a block they walked in silence.  Mrs. Caldwell spoke first.

“I am rebuked,” she said; “rebuked, as well as instructed.  Above all places in the world, I least expected to receive a lesson there.”

“Is it not worth remembering?” asked the friend.