She made her own and her children's clothes, collars, hats, and caps, her husband's shirts and neckties, toiling late into the morning hours, and all without frown or shadow of complaint, and indeed without suspicion that any but the happiest lot was hers, or that she was, as her sisters said, "just buried alive in the backwoods." Not she! She lived to serve, and the where and how were not hers to determine.

So, with bright face and brave heart, she met her days and faced the battle.

And scores of women and men are living better and braver lives because they had her for their minister's wife.
But the day had been long, and the struggle with the March wind pulls hard upon the strength, and outside the pines were crooning softly, and gradually the brave head drooped till between the stitches she fell asleep.

But not for many minutes, for a knock at the kitchen door startled her, and before long she heard Jessie's voice rise wrathful.
"Indeed, I'll do no such thing.

This is no time to come to the minister's house." For answer there was a mumble of words.
"Well, then, you can just wait until morning.