full of love and gratitude; and seemed to repeat the words that the faithful girl had spoken in the morning, as she left her to go to the church.  “I cannot thank you enough, as long as I live, for what you have done for me, mother.”  A yet brighter expression of happiness crossed Gertrude’s countenance when the young men came in procession after the girls, as her eyes fell on the well-formed lad, a head taller than his companions, who nodded at her, and greeted her with merry laughing looks, kissing his hand again and again, and yet once again.  That was her tall handsome Dietrich.  His mother’s heart leaped in her breast at the sight of his fresh young life, so full of hope and promise.  Gertrude waited till the visit to the pastor was over, and the young people had separated on their various paths.  Then she in her turn entered the parsonage.  She wished herself to speak her thanks to this true and long tried adviser and friend, for all that he had done for her children.

“You are a fortunate mother,” said the aged pastor, after he had listened to Gertrude’s expressions of gratitude.  “Those are two uncommon children that the good God has confided to your care, and I feel the greatest interest in them.  The lad has a clear head, and a winning grace that draws everyone to him.  Veronica is serious and conscientious; she has a calm steady nature and can be depended upon for fidelity to duty, such as it is rare to find.  The children will be your stay and comfort in your old age.  May you keep them in the paths of virtue.”

“With God’s help;” said Gertrude, and she left the parsonage with tears of happiness in her eyes.  As she passed the garden of her neighbor Judith, the latter called out over the low hedge,

“They have just gone by, all four of them.  It always seems to me strange that while all babies in the cradle look just alike, so that you can’t tell them apart, they grow up to be such very different men and women.”

“No, no, these four were never alike,” replied Gertrude, “but I agree that they grow more and more unlike every day.”

“Yes, that they do.  And of you three near neighbors, you certainly have drawn the best lot in children,” said Judith with enthusiasm, “two like your two are not to be found in a long day’s journey.  Veronica will fully repay you for what you have done for her.”

“I have been repaid long ago by the child’s attachment to me.  She has never given me anything but satisfaction ever since her mother died.  If I have any anxiety about Veronica it is lest she over-work herself.  There is something feverish in her love of work; she can never do enough.  No matter how late I go into her room at night, she is always finishing off some piece of work; and no matter how early I get up in the morning, she has already begun something new.  If I had not positively forbidden it, she would keep at it even on a Sunday.  It is a real source of anxiety to me, lest she should over-work and break down.”