sion, went to and fro
with their usual diligence almost as if this were nothing out of the
common course of events.

Mrs. Meeker had heard the wagon go by and had caught the sound of the
doctor's voice, her house being close by the road, and she had also
watched the unusual lights. It was annoying to the Dyers to have to
answer questions, and to be called upon to grieve outwardly just then,
and it seemed disloyal to the dead woman in the next room to enter
upon any discussion of her affairs. But presently the little child,
whom nobody had thought of except to see that she still slept, waked
and got down from the old settle where she had spent the night, and
walked with unsteady short footsteps toward her grandmother, who
caught her quickly and held her fast in her arms. The little thing
looked puzzled, and frowned, and seemed for a moment unhappy, and then
the sunshine of her good nature drove away the clouds and she clapped
her hands and laughed aloud, while Mrs. Meeker began to cry again at
the sight of this unconscious orphan.

"I'm sure I'm glad she can laugh," said Mrs. Martin. "She'll find
enough to cry about later on; I foresee she'll be a great deal o'
company to you, Mis' Thacher."

"Though 't ain't every one that has the strength to fetch up a child
after they reach your years," said Mrs. Meeker, mournfully. "It's
anxious work, but I don't doubt strength will be given you. I s'pose
likely her father's folks will do a good deal for her,"--and the three
women looked at each other, but neither took it upon herself to
answer.

All that day the neighbors and acquaintances came and went in the lane
that led to the farm-house. The brothers Jake and Martin made journeys
to and from the village. At night John Thacher came home from court
with as little to say as ever, but, as everybody observed, looking
years older. Young Mrs. Prince's return and sudden death were the only
subjects worth talking about in all the country side, and the doctor
had to run the usual gauntlet of questions from all his outlying
patients and their families. Old Mrs. Thacher looked pale and excited,
and insisted upon seeing every one who came to the house, with evident
intention to play her part in this strange drama with exactness and
courtesy. A funeral in the country is always an era in a family's
life; events date from it and centre in it. There are so few
circumstances that have in the least a public nature that these
conspicuous day