He prayed earnestly for a thankful, joyful spirit, and he assumed the virtue of cheerfulness though he was far from feeling it.

But he said nothing of this delusive temper to his mother.
He was in reality ashamed of his depression, for he knew Love that is true must hush itself, Nor pain by its useless cry; For the young don't care, and the old must bear, And Time goes by--goes by.
One morning John said to his mother, "Today Martha is queen of the May.
Tomorrow they will pack, and do their last shopping and on Friday afternoon they promise to be home.

The maids and men will be all in their places by tonight, and I think Jane will be pleased with the changes I have made." "She ought to be, but ought often stands for nothing.

It cost thee a goodish bit when thou hedn't much to count on." "Not so much, mother--some paint and paper and yards of creton." "And new white curtains 'upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber.' Add to that men's and women's wage; and add to that, the love that could neither be bought nor sold." "She is worth it all many times over." "Happen she may be.

Her aunt has had a heartbreaking lesson.