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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
44
"This
is
an
uncommonly
heavy
package,"
he
remarked;
"did
I
say
table-spoons?"
"Go
on!"
commanded
Harriet;
"your
wife
will
understand."
"All
right--good-bye
again,"
and
his
sturdy
figure
soon
disappeared
in
the
dark.
"The
impractical
man!"
exclaimed
Harriet.
"People
impose
on
him."
"What
was
in
that
package,
Harriet?"
"Oh,
I
put
in
a
few
jars
of
jelly
and
a
cake
of
honey."
After
a
moment
Harriet
looked
up
from
her
work.
"Do
you
know
the
greatest
sorrow
of
the
Scotch
preacher
and
his
wife?"
"What
is
it?"
I
asked.
"They
have
no
chick
nor
child
of
their
own,"
said
Harriet.
It
is
prodigious,
the
amount
of
work
required
to
make
a
good
axe-helve--I
mean
to
make
it
according
to
one's
standard.
I
had
times
of
humorous
discouragement
and
times
of
high
elation
when
it
seemed
to
me
I
could
not
work
fast
enough.
Weeks
passed
when
I
did
not
touch
the
helve
but
left
it
standing
quietly
in
the
corner.
Once
or
twice
I
took
it
out
and
walked
about
with
it
as
a
sort
of
cane,
much
to
the
secret
amusement,
I
think,
of
Harriet.
At
times
Harriet
takes
a
really
wicked
delight
in
her
superiority.
Early
one
morning
in
March
the
dawn
came
with
a
roaring
wind,
sleety
snow
drove
down
over
the
hill,
the
house
creaked
and
complained
in
every
clapboard.
A
blind
of
one
of
the
upper
windows,
wrenched
loose
from
its
fastenings,
was
driven
shut
with
such
force
that
it
broke
a
window
pane.
When
I
rushed
up
to
discover
the
meaning
of
the
clatter
and
to
repair
the
damage,
I
found
the
floor
covered
with
peculiar
long
fragments
of
glass--the
pane
having
been
broken
inward
from
the
centre.
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