have been hadn't things turned
out different. But there, my suz! Don't stan' there lookin' so wishful.
Put the dog in the lean-to an' shut the door. There's a strong air comes
through it an' I feel it, settin' still. Then you can tie my check apern
over your white frock. Don't you never wear no other kind of clothes,
Katy? 'Cause I don't know who'll do your washin' an' ironin', if you
don't."

Having finished a certain portion of the raisins, Susanna rose, washed
her hands and tied the apron around Katharine's neck, bringing the
strings forward under the arms with such firmness that the band choked
the girl, and made a puffy blouse of the gingham. The whole arrangement
was so uncomfortable that it was promptly taken off and hung upon its
nail.

"I can't endure that, you know. If I must wear an apron, like a coon,
I'll have one that fits. Why do I need it, anyway? This dress is only
white pique, and wears like iron. I heard stepmother say so when she
gave it to the dressmaker. She never bought me anything but piques and
ducks and things that would stand wearing without tearing. I mean--May
I do this many?"

Susanna fairly snatched the dish away and shook her helper's fingers
free from the cluster of raisins she had lifted, exclaiming:

"Why, I am surprised at you, Katharine Maitland! You takin' a bath every
mornin', in cold water, too, an' keepin' yourself so tidy all the time,
to go an' stun raisins after handlin' a dog! Wash 'em, an' clean your
nails with this pin, an' tie that apern back--loose if you want--but
wear it you must, or I won't be responsible for no smutch you get on
you. Here's your basin for the hull ones; an' here's an earthen bowl for
them 'at's done, an' a penknife to do 'em with. I declare! It's more
work to get you ready to 'help' than 'twould be to do it all myself."

Katharine's spirits rose. Though she blushed at the reprimand for
untidiness, a kind of reproof she seldom deserved, she was so accustomed
to corrections that she scarcely listened to any, and sprang to a seat
on the end of the great table with an outburst of rollicking "rag-time"
song.

Safe to say that that sort of music had never before been heard within
the dignified walls of that old mansion, and though Susanna was
delighted to see "Johnny's girl" happy again, she was, also, somewhat
shocked.

"Why--why, Katy! What's that you're saying? Don't sound like reg'lar
English. Not like 'Old Lang Syne,' nor 'The Old Oaken Bucke