hat, if you'd known
how things were, Sylvy."

"I kinder felt as if I needed it."

"Well, I guess you might have got along without that, anyhow.
Richard's got one, ain't he?"

"Yes, he says he has."

"I thought I remembered his mother's buyin' one just before his
father died. Well, you'll have his sofa, then; if I remember right,
it's a better one than yours that you give Rose. Now, Sylvy Crane,
you jest put on your hood an' shawl, an' come home with me, an' have
some dinner. Have you got anything in the house to eat?"

"I've got a few things," replied Sylvia, evasively.

"What?"

"Some potatoes an' apples."

"Potatoes an' apples!" Hannah began to sob again. "To think of your
comin' to this," she wailed. "My own sister not havin' anything in
the house to eat, an' settin' out for the poor-house, an' everybody
in town knowin' it."

"Don't feel bad about it, Hannah; it's all over now," said Sylvia.

"Don't feel bad about it! I guess you'd feel bad about it if you was
in my place," returned Hannah. "I s'pose you think now you've got
Richard Alger that there's nothin' else makes any odds. I guess I've
got some feelin's. Get your hood and shawl, now do; dinner was all
ready when I come away."

"I guess I'd better not, Hannah," said Sylvia. It seemed to her that
she never would want anything to eat again. She wanted to be alone in
her old house, and hug her happiness to her heart, whose starvation
had caused her more agony than any other. Now that was appeased she
cared for nothing else.

"You come right along," said Hannah. "I've got a nice roast spare-rib
an' turnip an' squash, an' you're goin' to come an' have some of it."

When Hannah and Sylvia got out on the main road, they heard Sarah
Barnard's voice calling them. She was hurrying down the hill. Cephas
had just come home with the news. Jonathan Leavitt had spread it over
the village from the nucleus of the store where he had stopped on his
way home.

Sarah Barnard sat down on the snowy stone-wall among the last year's
blackberry vines, and cried as if her heart would break. Finally
Hannah, after joining with her awhile, turned to and comforted her.

"Land sake, don't take on so, Sarah Barnard!" said she; "it's all
over now. Sylvy's goin' to marry Richard Alger, an' there ain't a man
in Pembroke any better off, unless it's Squire Payne. She's goin' to
have him right off, an' he's goin' to buy the house an' fix it up,
an' she's goin' to have all his mo