landscape that we possessed, how happy I should be. It would enrich our
otherwise barren home and make it equal to the most beautiful salon of
the grandest castle."

Mother and daughters rarely went anywhere, but every Sunday found them
attendants at a church at the other end of the city. There, on those
sacred walls, hung a beautiful painting executed by their father. "This
indeed is exquisite work," said the mother, and the children fully
agreed with her sentiments.

When the services were ended they all slowly wended their way through
the city to their modest home. Sunday after Sunday, rain or shine, found
them carrying out the same program, always returning with hearts filled
with reverence and peace.

The long, weary winter nights were passed reading the books which their
father had collected during his lifetime, and which, by the merest
accident, had not been disposed of.

Thus they passed their days, quietly and contentedly, each one
cheerfully doing her daily share of good deeds and good works in this
great vineyard of the world, where we have all been placed to do our
best.




Chapter II

The Picture