“Hadn’t you better rest a little before you begin any new task, my daughter?  You have done so much these last years you must be tired,” interrupted Mrs. Sterling, with a look of tender anxiety.

“You know I work for two, mother,” answered Christie, with the clear, sweet expression her face always wore when she spoke of David.  “I am not tired yet:  I hope I never shall be, for without my work I should fall into despair or ennui.  There is so much to be done, and it is so delightful to help do it, that I never mean to fold my hands till they are useless.  I owe all I can do, for in labor, and the efforts and experiences that grew out of it, I have found independence, education, happiness, and religion.”

“Then, my dear, you are ready to help other folks into the same blessed state, and it’s your duty to do it!” cried Mrs. Wilkins, her keen eyes full of sympathy and commendation as they rested on Christie’s cheerful, earnest face.  “Ef the sperrit moves you to speak, up and do it without no misgivin’s.  I think it was a special leadin’ that night, and I hope you’ll foller, for it ain’t every one that can make folks laugh and cry with a few plain words that go right to a body’s heart and stop there real comfortable and fillin’.  I guess this is your next job, my dear, and you’d better ketch hold and give it the right turn; for it’s goin’ to take time, and women ain’t stood alone for so long they’ll need a sight of boostin’.”

There was a general laugh at the close of Mrs. Wilkins’s remarks; but Christie answered seriously:  “I accept the task, and will do my share faithfully with words or work, as shall seem best.  We all need much preparation for the good time that is coming to us, and can get it best by trying to know and help, love and educate one another,—­as we do here.”

With an impulsive gesture Christie stretched her hands to the friends about her, and with one accord they laid theirs on hers, a loving league of sisters, old and young, black and white, rich and poor, each ready to do her part to hasten the coming of the happy end.

“Me too!” cried little Ruth, and spread her chubby hand above the rest:  a hopeful omen, seeming to promise that the coming generation of women will not only receive but deserve their liberty, by learning that the greatest of God’s gifts to us is the privilege of sharing His great work.

“Each ready to do her part to hasten the coming of the happy end.”

*** End of the project gutenberg EBOOK, work:  A story of experience ***

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