Amelia stepped deftly about the house. She was a large woman,
whose ways had been devoid of grace; but now the richness of her
spiritual condition informed her with a charm. She crooned a little
about her work. Singing voice she had none, but she grew into a way of
putting words together, sometimes a line from the psalms, sometimes a
name she loved, and chanting the sounds, in unrecorded melody.
Meanwhile, little Rosie, always irreproachably dressed, with a jealous
care lest she fall below the popular standard, roamed in and out of the
house, and lightened its dull intervals. She, like the others, grew at
once very happy, because, like them, she accepted her place without a
qualm, as if it had been hers from the beginning. They were simple
natures, and when their joy came, they knew how to meet it.
But if Enoch was content to follow the beaten ways of life, there was
one window through which he looked into the upper heaven of all:
thereby he saw what it is to create. He was a born mechanician. A
revolving wheel would set him to dreaming, and still him to that
lethargy of mind which is an involuntary sharing in the things that
are. He could lose himself in the life of rhythmic motion; and when he
discovered rusted springs, or cogs unprepared to fulfill their purpose,
he fell upon them with the ardor of a worshiper, and tried to set them
right.
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