"Oh, no; they _are_ queer. And when we are dead and gone some one will
call ours queer, no doubt. But we haven't many. When father died we were
on a farm just out of Marblehead. Things were mostly sold at a vendue,
for the two boys were going in the army. That was back in '78. Mother
and we two girls went to her mother's at Danvers. Elizabeth took up
sewing, but there were hard times, for the war stretched out so long,
and it did seem as if the Colonies would never gain their cause. But
they did. Brother Linus was killed, and later on I had a dear friend
lost at sea. Mother died, and we were sort of scattered about till we
came here. Cousin Chilian was very good to us. So you see we haven't
much to leave, but then we haven't any descendant;" and she gave a soft
little laugh. "Elizabeth has mother's gold comb, set with amethysts, and
a brooch, and I have the string of gold beads and some rings. A cousin
in London sent them to grandmother."

"Eunice, you might set the table," said Elizabeth, rather sharply. "I'm
making some fritters. They will taste good this cold night."

"Couldn't I help?" asked Rachel.

"Oh, you must be tired enough without doing any more. It's a good thing
you have all your belongings housed. The garret doesn't leak."

"Yes, I am thankful. I really did not think there was so much."

There was a savory fragrance in the sitting-room. Chilian came in,
looking weary with his long ride.

"It is almost wintry cold," he said, holding his hands to the fire.
"Have you had a nice day, little girl?"

"Yes;" glancing up with a smile.

They did justice to Bessy's nice supper. Chilian had seen Cousin Giles,
who sent remembrances to them all, and was coming up some day to see
Letty Orne's little girl. Chilian found there was a good deal of
business to do. For a while his days of leisure and ease would be over.

Then he brought out a Boston paper and read them some of the news. Miss
Eunice went on with her fringe. Elizabeth was knitting a sock for
Chilian out of fine linen yarn, spun by herself, and she put pretty
open-work stitches all up the instep. For imported articles were still
dear, and there was a pride in the women to do all for themselves that
they could. Cynthia leaned her head on Rachel's lap and went asleep.

"Do hear that rain! The storm has begun in good earnest."

It was rushing like a tramp of soldiers, flinging great sheets against
the closed shutters, and the wind roared in the chimn