are
particularly, as long's we've got our share of it."

She was swaying back and forth in a squeaky old rocking-chair, the
check clasped in both thin hands.

"Shall we bank it, children; or draw it all out in cash? Fanny needs
new clothes; so do you, Jim. And I've got to have a new carpet, or
something, for the parlor. Those skins of wild animals you brought in
are all right, Jim, if one can't get anything better. I suppose we'd
ought to be prudent and saving; but I declare we haven't had any
money to speak of, for so long--"

Mrs. Dodge's faded eyes were glowing with joy; she spread the check
upon her lap and gazed at it smilingly.

"I declare it's the biggest surprise I've had in all my life!"

"Let's spend every cent of it," proposed Fanny recklessly. "We didn't
know we were going to have it. We can scrub along afterward the same
as we always have. Let's divide it into four parts: one for the
house--to fix it up--and one for each of us, to spend any way we
like. What do you say, Jim?"

"I shouldn't wonder if Mrs. Deacon Whittle would furnish up her best
parlor something elegant," surmised Mrs. Dodge. "She's always said
she was goin' to have gilt paper and marble tops and electric blue
plush upholstered furniture. I guess that'll be the last fair we'll
ever have in that house. She wouldn't have everybody trampin' over
her flowered Body-Brussels. I suppose _we_ might buy some plush
furniture; but I don't know as I'd care for electric blue. What do
you think, son?"

Jim Dodge sat sprawled out in his chair before the half-set table. At
this picture of magnificence, about to be realized in the abode of
Deacon Amos Whittle, he gave vent to an inarticulate growl.

"What's the matter with you, Jim?" shrilled his mother, whose
perpetually jangled nerves were capable of strange dissonances.
"Anybody'd suppose you wasn't pleased at having the old Bolton place
sold at last, and a little bit of all that's been owing to us since
before your poor father died, paid off. My! If we was to have all
that was coming to us by rights, with the interest money--"

"I'm hungry and tired, mother, and I want my dinner," said Jim
brusquely. "That check won't hoe the potatoes; so I guess I'll have
to do it, same as usual."

"For pity sake, Fanny!" cried his mother, "did you put the vegetables
over to boil? I ain't thought of anything since this check came."

It appeared that Fanny had been less forgetful.

After his belated dinne