nt a woman with faculty!"

"Of course we do!" cried both girls, laughing. "That is why we have come
to you."

"Sho!" said Mrs. Brett, crumpling her apron again, and trying not to
look pleased. "Why, young ladies, I couldn't do it, no way in the world.
There's my chickens, you see, and my cow, let alone the house; not but
what Joel (that's my nephew) would be glad enough to take keer of 'em.
And goin' so fur away, as you may say--though 't would be pleasant to be
nigh Marthy--we was always friends, Marthy and me, since we was
girls--and preserves to make, and fall cleanin' comin' on, and help so
skurce as 'tis--why, I don't know what Marthy's thinkin' of, really I
don't. Children, too! why, I do love children, and I shouldn't never
think I had things comfortable enough for 'em; not but that's a lovely
place, pretty as ever I see. I helped Marthy clean it one spring, and
such a fancy as I took to that kitchen,--why, there! and the little room
over it; I remember of saying to Marthy, says I, a woman might live
happy in those two rooms, let alone the back yard, with all that nice
fine gravel for the chickens, I says. But there! I couldn't do it, Miss
Grahame, no way in the world. Why, I ain't got more'n half-a-dozen
aprons to my back; so now you see!"

This last seemed such a very funny reason to give, that the three young
people could not help laughing heartily.

"Martha has dozens and dozens of aprons, Mrs. Brett," said Hildegarde.
"She has a whole bureau full of them, because she is afraid her eyes may
give out some day, and then she will not be able to make any more. And
now, just think a moment!" She laid her hand on the good woman's arm,
and continued in her most persuasive tones: "Think of living in that
pleasant house, with the pretty room for your own, and the sunny
kitchen, and the laundry, all under your own management."

"Set tubs!" said Mrs. Brett, in a pathetic parenthesis. "If there's one
thing I've allers hankered after, more 'n another, it's a set tub!"

"And the dear little children playing about in the garden, and coming to
you with flowers, and looking to you as almost a second mother--"

"Little Joel,"--cried the widow, putting her apron to her eyes, and
beginning to rock gently to and fro--"I've allus felt that blessed child
would ha' lived, if he'd ha' been left with me. There! Joel's been a
good nephew, there couldn't no one have a better; but his wife and me,
we never conjingled. She took the