Betty gave a happy little sigh.
'I tell you what, now,' Reuben added; 'if you're a-wantin' to have tribbylation made clear to you, I'll take you down to see old Jenny—praychin' Jenny, she used to be called—for she used to hold forth in chapel bettern than a parson. And she's bin bedridden these twelve year; but she can learn anybody about the Bible; she knows tex's by thousands; there hain't no one can puzzle Jenny over the Bible.'
'Is she very ill?' asked Betty.
'She's just bedridden with rheumatics, that's all; but 'tis quite enough; and I was calkilatin' only t'other day that I'll have to be diggin' her grave afore Christmas.'
'Will you take me to see her now?'
'For sure I will.'
Out of the cool church they went, and along the hot, dusty road, till they reached a low thatched cottage by the wayside. Reuben lifted the latch of the door, and walked right in.
There was a big screen just inside the door, and a voice asked at once,—
'Who be there?'
''Tis only Reuben and a little lass that wants to see you.' And Betty was led round the screen to a big four-post bed with spotlessly clean hangings and a wonderful patch-work quilt. Lying back on the pillows was one of the sweetest old women that Betty had ever seen. A close frilled night-cap surrounded a cheery, withered face—a face that looked as if nothing would break the placid smile upon it, nothing would dim the joy and peace shining through the faded blue eyes.