was an
unconscious sign of it.

"Your mother has decided to sell the house on the 23d, it seems," he
said.

"Yes; I have been out twice. I shall be able to go away by then; I
suppose that is all she has waited for."

"Do you think you could be contented to come and live with me?"

"Come and _live_?"

"Yes. And let your mother and Helena go to Europe."

"O, Uncle Oldways! I think I could _rest_ there! But I don't want
only to rest, you know. I must do something. For myself, to begin
with. I have made up my mind not to depend upon my mother. Why
should I, any more than a boy? And I am sure I cannot depend on
anybody else."

These were Desire Ledwith's thanks; and Mr. Oldways liked them. She
did not say it to please him; she thought it seemed almost
ungrateful and unwilling; but she was so intent on taking up life
for herself.

"You must have a place to do in,--or from," said Mr. Oldways. "And
it is better you should be under some protection. You must consent
to that for your mother's sake. How much money have you got?"

"Two hundred and fifty dollars a year. Of my own."

This was coming to business and calculation and common sense. Desire
was encouraged. Uncle Oldways did not think her quite absurd.

"That will clothe you,--without much fuss and feathers?"

"I have done with fuss and feathers,"--Desire said with a grave
smile, glancing at her plain white wrapper and the black shawl that
was folded around her.

"Then come where is room for you and a welcome, and do as much more
as you please, and can, for yourself, or for anybody else. I won't
give you a cent; you shall have something to do for me, if you
choose. I am an old man now, and want help. Perhaps what I want as
much as anything is what I've been all my life till lately, pretty
obstinate in doing without."

Uncle Oldways spoke short, and drew his breath in and puffed it out
between his sentences, in his bluff way; but his eyes were kind, as
he sat looking at the young girl over his hat and cane.

She thought of the still, gray parlor; of Rachel Froke and her face
of peace; and the Quaker meeting and the crumbs last year; of Uncle
Oldways' study, and his shelves rich with books; of the new
understanding that had begun between herself and him, and the faith
she had found out, down beneath his hard reserves; of the beautiful
neighborhood, Miss Craydocke's Beehive, Aunt Franks' cheery home and
the ways of it, and Hazel's runnings in and out. It se