It was a cool evening, though in midsummer, and they had gathered round the kitchen fire as being the most agreeable place.

The children were long gone to bed; the rest of the family had at length followed them; Elizabeth and Mrs.
Landholm alone kept their place.

The one was darning some desperate-looking socks; the other, as usual, deep in a book.
They had been very still and busy for a long time; and then as Elizabeth looked up for a moment and glanced at the stocking- covered hand of her neighbour, Mrs.Landholm looked up; their eyes met.

Mrs.Landholm smiled.
"Do you like anything so well as reading, Miss Elizabeth ?" "Nothing in the world! What _are_ you doing, Mrs.Landholm ?" "Mending -- some of the boys' socks," she said cheerfully; "farmers are hard upon their feet." "Mending -- _that ?_" said Elizabeth.

"What an endless work!" "No, not endless," said the mother quietly.