he meal was a very good one, and Euphemia enjoyed it.
When she had finished, she went up to the counter to settle. Her bill
was sixty cents. She paid the money that she had just received, and
walked down to the ferry--all in a daze, she said. When she got home she
thought it over, and then she cried.

After a while she dried her eyes, and when I came home she told me all
about it.

"I give it up," she said. "I don't believe I can help you any."

Poor little thing! I took her in my arms and comforted her, and before
bedtime I had convinced her that she was fully able to help me better
than any one else on earth, and that without puzzling her brains about
business, or wearing herself out by sewing for pay.

So we went on in our old way, and by keeping our attention on our weekly
balance, we prevented it from growing very rapidly.

We fell back on our philosophy (it was all the capital we had), and
became as calm and contented as circumstances allowed.

CHAPTER V. POMONA PRODUCES A PARTIAL REVOLUTION IN RUDDER GRANGE.

Euphemia began to take a great deal of comfort in her girl. Every
evening she had some new instance to relate of Pomona's inventive
abilities and aptness in adapting herself to the peculiarities of our
method of housekeeping.

"Only to think!" said she, one afternoon, "Pomona has just done another
VERY smart thing. You know what a trouble it has always been for us
to carry all our waste water upstairs, and throw it over the bulwarks.
Well, she has remedied all that. She has cut a nice little low window
in the side of the kitchen, and has made a shutter of the piece she cut
out, with leather hinges to it, and now she can just open this window,
throw the water out, shut it again, and there it is! I tell you she's
smart."

"Yes; there is no doubt of that," I said; "but I think that there is
danger of her taking more interest in such extraordinary and novel
duties than in the regular work of the house."

"Now, don't discourage the girl, my dear," she said, "for she is of the
greatest use to me, and I don't want you to be throwing cold water about
like some people."

"Not even if I throw it out of Pomona's little door, I suppose."

"No. Don't throw it at all. Encourage people. What would the world be
if everybody chilled our aspirations and extraordinary efforts? Like
Fulton's steamboat."

"All right," I said; "I'll not discourage her."

It was now getting late in the season. It was quite t