Free In the Way by Grace Livingston Hill

thought of these plans, and it is God who has given us the intellect and skill to plan. Even when he lets our plans fail apparently, it may be that their very failure has been their success in his eyes.
                  David had tried to arrange for the freight to be brought from a quiet little station two miles up the road, from the village, that the whole neighborhood might not know everything that was going on, but it had proved impossible. For some reason the cars could not be left on the right side-track. So through the eager little village the hauling wagons toiled back and forth, back and forth, an incredible number of times, emptying the great freight car. Mrs. Chatterton could hardly get her work done that day, so afraid was she that she would lose count of the wagon loads, but when the night came her record was correct, she was sure. Not much satisfaction had she from her watch, however, for everything was so carefully packed by professional packers that its shape and design were hopelessly covered. A crowd of boys and older men, and even a few curious women, had made errands down toward the station, that they might see these city things nearer, and some papers were picked a little just to see the woodwork on a bedstead or the upholstery on a chair. There were great stories afloat, and much wonder. But there was nothing to go on but hearsay and surmise. David was always “close-mouthed,” the neighbors said, and they did not like to ask him questions, and Joseph had gone to the fair to sell sheep. If Joseph had been home they felt sure they might have found out something. One old man with a ragged, discolored beard, where a river of tobacco juice ever and anon flowed down, even said he shouldn't wonder if there was trouble up there with that highflier of a city girl, or Joe never would have gone; he never went before, and this was reported as true by the postmaster to three friends of his as he sorted over the mail to go east.
                  But at the farmhouse there was eagerness and pleasant hard work. David got his own necessary work out of the way as soon as possible that he might help. As the loads came in they were deposited here and there, out of the way, in rooms that were not to be used immediately, and Ruth selected the things she wanted for Joseph's room at once. David opened the boxes and helped to uncover the swathed furniture, and carried up and arranged. He did not wish to trust the men with this more than he could help. Some things he found pretty heavy, however, and was obliged to have help, so he kept John Haskins.
                  Perhaps that was a providence too, for John Haskins was brother to Ellen Amelia, she who had admired the hat of the city lady at the station the day she arrived, and Ellen Amelia's heart was delighted, and her life was brightened greatly by the wonderful account of velvet carpets and downy chairs, which her brother John gave at the supper table. It may be that John's vocabulary was hardly suited to convey exactly correct impressions of all he had seen, and it may be that where he could not remember he drew somewhat on his imagination, but on the whole the account was a good one and eagerly listened to by the entire Haskins family, including the New York grandmother, who was pleased to be able to explain the uses of some articles described, though she was hardly familiar with them in her own home. But city people have opportunities, which gives them an advantage sometimes, and it pleased her to be able to air her little knowledge. As for Ellen Amelia, her “Fireside Companion” had just come, and she had finished reading “The Disguised Duke; or, From Poorhouse to Palace,” by the fading light, when her mother called to her for the fifth time that the table must be set that minute. And now her dreams were being carried on into realities by John's account. It did her good to think that there were such beautiful things in the world,