sy believed in giving people their due,
and thought "Anne made a dreffle fool of herself, foolin' round with
that woman at all.") Anne had been her faithful friend, and never
allowed people to make fun of her if she were present.

A week before my story opens, when Mrs. Means fell down and broke her
leg, just as she was passing Miss Peace's house, the latter lady
declared it to be a special privilege.

"I can take care of her," she explained to the doctor, when he
expressed regret at being obliged to forbid the sufferer's being moved
for some weeks, "just as well as not and better. David isn't fit to
have the care of her, and--well, doctor, I can say to you, who know it
as well as I do, that Delia mightn't be the best person for David to
have round him just now, when he needs cheering up. Then, too, I can
do her sewing along with my own, as easy as think; work's slack now,
and there's nothing I'm specially drove with. I've been wishing right
along that I could do something to help, now that David is so poorly.
I'm kin to David, you know, so take it by and large, doctor, it doos
seem like a privilege, doesn't it?"

The doctor growled. He was not fond of Mrs. Means.

"If you can get her moved out of Grumble Street and into Thanksgiving
Alley," he said, "it'll be a privilege for this village; but you can't
do it, Anne. However, there's no use talking to you, you incorrigible
optimist. You're the worst case I ever saw, Anne Peace, and I haven't
the smallest hope of curing you. Put the liniment on her leg as I
told you, and I'll call in the morning. Good day!"

"My goodness me, what was he saying to you?" Mrs. Means asked as Anne
went back into the bedroom. "You've got something that you'll never
get well of? Well, Anne Peace, that does seem the cap sheaf on the
hull. Heart complaint, I s'pose it is; and what would become of me, if
you was to be struck down, as you might be any minute of time, and me
helpless here, and a husband and four children at home and he failin'
up. You did look dretful gashly round the mouth yisterday, I noticed
it at the time, but of course I didn't speak of it. Why, here I should
lay, and might starve to death, and you cold on the floor, for all the
help I should get." Mrs. Means shed tears, and Anne Peace answered
with as near an approach to asperity as her soft voice could command.

"Don't talk foolishness, Delia. I'm not cold yet, nor likely to be.
Here, let me 'tend to your leg; it's time