things go where
they would be appreciated. We've no one of our very own to leave them
to," and Miss Morgan sighed. "Margaret doesn't consider store articles
so much better than those made long ago. Let's each give her a pair of
linen sheets. I've a dozen good ones now, and, land sakes! we sha'n't
wear out half our bedding. And my tablecloth of the basket pattern, and
two towels. And--let me see--that white wool blanket of Aunt Hetty's. It
was spun and woven in 1800; and the sheep were raised here on the old
farm. Some peculiar kind they were, with long, soft fleece."

"Well," said Famie, slowly, "there's my snowball tablecloth and two
towels. 'Rastus's wife won't ever care for them with her fine Paris
things. But we won't give away the silver, nor the old pewter flagon,
nor the basin and cups. They've the crown mark on them, 1710 for a date.
Deary me, they'll outlast us," and she sighed also.

Roseann agreed. Six sheets and pillow-cases, three tablecloths and
half-a-dozen towels, and two blankets, one spun and woven by their own
mother. The initials and date were marked on them in old-fashioned
cross-stitch, which was a little more ornate than regular
sampler-stitch.

Aunt Hetty's blanket had been made from the wool of an especial cosset
lamb that had lost its mother and been brought up by hand. The little
girl was very much interested.

"Did it follow her about?" she asked.

"Dear sakes!" and Aunt Famie laughed. "I just guess it did. It grew very
troublesome, I've heard tell, and was quite quality, always wanting to
come into the sitting-room. And it would curl down at Aunt Hetty's feet
like a dog. She saved the wool every year, and spun it, and laid it away
until she had enough. But I don't believe it went to school, although
it could spell one word."

"One word!" cried the little girl, in amaze. "What was that?"

"Why b-a ba, of course. They said it could spell through the whole
lesson, and I don't see why not. I've heard lambs make a dozen different
sounds."

The little girl laughed. She was very fond of listening to what Aunt
Famie did when she was little; and they went to call upon some curious
old people who kept to the Dutch ways and wore the old costume. Some of
them had wooden clogs for rainy weather. When they talked real Dutch,
Hanny found it was quite different from German. They had a picture of
some old ancestor's house with the windmill in the front yard.

The drives about were beautiful then,