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Mrs. Penn’s face, as she worked, changed, her perplexed forehead smoothed, her eyes were steady, her lips firmly set. She formed a maxim for herself, although incoherently with her unlettered thoughts.”Unsolicited opportunities are the guideposts of the Lord to the new roads of life,” she repeated in effect, and she made up her mind to her course of action.

“S’posin’ I had wrote to Hiram,” she muttered once, when she was in the pantry — “s’posin’ I had wrote, an’ asked him if he knew of any horse?But I didn’t, an’ father’s goin’ wa’n’t none of my doin’. It looks like a Providence.”Her voice rang out quite loud at the last.

“What you talkin’ about, mother?” called Nanny.

“Nothin’.”

Mrs. Penn hurried her baking; at eleven o’clock it was all done. The load of hay from the west field came slowly down the cart track, and drew up at the new barn. Mrs. Penn ran out.”Stop!” she screamed — “stop!”

The men stopped and looked; Sammy upreared from the top of the load, and stared at his mother.