The Carpenter's Daughter, by 
 
Anna Bartlett Warner and Susan Bogert Warner This eBook is for the 
use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms 
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
www.gutenberg.org 
Title: The Carpenter's Daughter 
Author: Anna Bartlett Warner Susan Bogert Warner 
Release Date: July 13, 2007 [EBook #22061] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE 
CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER *** 
 
Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Jana Srna and the Online 
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[Illustration: NETTIE COMFORTS HER MOTHER.]
THE 
CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER. 
"Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of 
God." 
BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," ETC. ETC. 
WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE. 
LONDON: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, THE 
BROADWAY, LUDGATE. 
 
BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD." 
Price ONE SHILLING each, with coloured Frontispiece THE TWO 
SCHOOLGIRLS. THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER. THE PRINCE 
IN DISGUISE. GERTRUDE AND HER BIBLE. MARTHA AND 
RACHEL. THE WIDOW AND HER DAUGHTER. THE LITTLE 
BLACK HEN. THE ROSE IN THE DESERT. 
 
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS. 
London: Savill, Edwards & Co., Printers, Chandos Street. 
 
CONTENTS. 
CHAP. PAGE 
I. SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK 1 
II. SUNDAY'S REST 20 
III. NETTIE'S GARRET 55
IV. THE BROWN CLOAK IN NOVEMBER 69 
V. THE NEW BLANKET 82 
VI. THE HOUSE-RAISING 97 
VII. THE WAFFLES 112 
VIII. THE GOLDEN CITY 135 
 
THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER. 
CHAPTER I. 
SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK. 
Down in a little hollow, with the sides grown full of wild thorn, alder 
bushes, and stunted cedars, ran the stream of a clear spring. It ran over 
a bed of pebbly stones, showing every one as if there had been no water 
there, so clear it was; and it ran with a sweet soft murmur or gurgle 
over the stones, as if singing to itself and the bushes as it ran. 
On one side of the little stream a worn foot path took its course among 
the bushes; and down this path one summer's afternoon came a woman 
and a girl. They had pails to fill at the spring; the woman had a large 
wooden one, and the girl a light tin pail; and they drew the water with a 
little tin dipper, for it was not deep enough to let a pail be used for that. 
The pails were filled in silence, only the spring always was singing; 
and the woman and the girl turned and went up the path again. After 
getting up the bank, which was only a few feet, the path still went 
gently rising through a wild bit of ground, full of trees and low bushes; 
and not far off, through the trees, there came a gleam of bright light 
from the window of a house, on which the setting sun was shining. Half 
way to the house the girl and the woman stopped to rest; for water is 
heavy, and the tin pail which was so light before it was filled, had made 
the little girl's figure bend over to one side like a willow branch all the 
way from the spring. They stopped to rest, and even the woman had a
very weary, jaded look. 
"I feel as if I shall give up, some of these days," she exclaimed. 
"O no, mother!" the little girl answered, cheerfully. She was panting, 
with her hand on her side, and her face had a quiet, very sober look; 
only at those words a little pleasant smile broke over it. 
"I shall," said the woman. "One can't stand everything,--for ever." 
The little girl had not got over panting yet, but standing there she struck 
up the sweet air and words,-- 
"'There is rest for the weary, There is rest for the weary, There is rest 
for the weary, There is rest for you.'" 
"Yes, in the grave!" said the woman, bitterly. "There's no rest short of 
that,--for mind or body." 
"O yes, mother dear. 'For we which have believed do enter into rest.' 
Jesus don't make us wait." 
"I believe you eat the Bible and sleep on the Bible," said the woman, 
with a faint smile, taking at the same time a corner of her apron to wipe 
away a stray tear which had gathered in her eye. "I am glad it rests you, 
Nettie." 
"And you, mother." 
"Sometimes," Mrs. Mathieson answered, with a sigh. "But there's your 
father going to bring home a boarder, Nettie." 
"A boarder, mother!--What for?" 
"Heaven knows!--if it isn't to break my back, and my heart together. I 
thought I had enough to manage before, but here's this    
    
		
	
	
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