The words were hardly out of Christie’s mouth when in they came; Hepsey’s black face shining with affection, and Mrs. Wilkins as usual running over with kind words.

“My dear creeter, the best of wishes and no end of happy birthdays.  There ‘s a triflin’ keepsake; tuck it away, and look at it byme by.  Mis’ Sterlin’, I’m proper glad to see you lookin’ so well.  Aunt Letty, how’s that darlin’ child?  I ain’t the pleasure of your acquaintance, Miss, but I’m pleased to see you.  The children all sent love, likewise Lisha, whose bones is better sense I tried the camfire and red flannel.”

Then they settled down like a flock of birds of various plumage and power of song, but all amicably disposed, and ready to peck socially at any topic which might turn up.

Mrs. Wilkins started one by exclaiming as she “laid off” her bonnet: 

“Sakes alive, there’s a new picter!  Ain’t it beautiful?”

“Colonel Fletcher brought it this morning.  A great artist painted it for him, and he gave it to me in a way that added much to its value,” answered Christie, with both gratitude and affection in her face; for she was a woman who could change a lover to a friend, and keep him all her life.

It was a quaint and lovely picture of Mr. Greatheart, leading the fugitives from the City of Destruction.  A dark wood lay behind; a wide river rolled before; Mercy and Christiana pressed close to their faithful guide, who went down the rough and narrow path bearing a cross-hilted sword in his right hand, and holding a sleeping baby with the left.  The sun was just rising, and a long ray made a bright path athwart the river, turned Greatheart’s dinted armor to gold, and shone into the brave and tender face that seemed to look beyond the sunrise.

“There’s just a hint of Davy in it that is very comforting to me,” said Mrs. Sterling, as she laid her old hands softly together, and looked up with her devout eyes full of love.

“Dem women oughter bin black,” murmured Hepsey, tearfully; for she considered David worthy of a place with old John Brown and Colonel Shaw.

“The child looks like Pansy, we all think,” added Letty, as the little girl brought her nosegay for Aunty to tie up prettily.

Christie said nothing, because she felt too much; and Bella was also silent because she knew too little.  But Mrs. Wilkins with her kindly tact changed the subject before it grew painful, and asked with sudden interest: 

“When be you a goin’ to hold forth agin, Christie?  Jest let me know beforehand, and I’ll wear my old gloves:  I tore my best ones all to rags clappin’ of you; it was so extra good.”

“I don’t deserve any credit for the speech, because it spoke itself, and I couldn’t help it.  I had no thought of such a thing till it came over me all at once, and I was up before I knew it.  I’m truly glad you liked it, but I shall never make another, unless you think I’d better.  You know I always ask your advice, and what is more remarkable usually take it,” said Christie, glad to consult her oracle.