things; her life spread itself out
like a picture; perhaps never before had she been able to detach
herself from her immediate occupation in this way. She never had been
aware of her own character and exploits to such a degree, and the
minutes sped by as she thought with deep interest along the course of
her own history. There was nothing she was ashamed of to an
uncomfortable degree but the long animosity between herself and the
children's aunt. How harsh she had been sometimes; she had even tried
to prejudice everybody who listened to these tales of an offender. "I
wa'n't more 'n half right, now I come to look myself full in the
face," said Mercy Bascom, "and I never owned it till this day."

The sun was already past noon, and the good woman dutifully rose and
with instant consciousness of resource glanced in at the kitchen
window to tell the time by a familiar mark on the floor. "I needn't
start just yet," she muttered. "Oh my! how I do wish I could git in
and poke round into every corner! 'T would make this day just
perfect."

"There now!" she continued, "p'raps they leave the key just where our
folks used to." And in another minute the key lay in Mercy's worn old
hand. She gave a shrewd look along the road, opened the door, which
creaked what may have been a hearty welcome, and stood inside the dear
old kitchen. She had not been in the house alone since she left it,
but now she was nobody's guest. It was like some shell-fish finding
its own old shell again and settling comfortably into the
convolutions. Even we must not follow Mother Bascom about from the
dark cellar to the hot little attic. She was not curious about the
Browns' worldly goods; indeed, she was nearly unconscious of anything
but the comfort of going up and down the short flight of stairs and
looking out of her own windows with nobody to watch.

"There's the place where Tobias scratched the cupboard door with a
nail. Didn't I thrash him for it good?" she said once with a proud
remembrance of the time when she was a lawgiver and proprietor and he
dependent.

At length a creeping fear stole over her lest the family might return.
She stopped one moment to look back into the little bedroom. "How good
I did use to sleep here," she said. "I worked as stout as I could the
day through, and there wa'n't no wakin' up by two o'clock in the
morning, and smellin' for fire and harkin' for thieves like I have to
nowadays."

Mercy stepped away down the long s