l look
over my piece-bag to-morrow. If there's anything you can use, you'll
be welcome."

Mrs. Trotter expressed her appreciation, "With all the sewing I done
when Benny was expected, I did think I was pretty well fixed, come what
might. I didn't reckon on the twins, you see. And then when little
Tom died, they laid him out in the embroidered dress I'd counted on for
the christening of the lot. Not that I grudged it to him," added the
mother quickly, and sighed.

This had the effect of dissipating Persis' sense of annoyance. "I'm
pretty sure I can find you something, Mis' Trotter. And I'll speak to
one or two of my customers. Some of 'em may have things put away that
they're not likely to want again."

Mrs. Trotter received the offer with a dignity untainted by servile
gratitude.

"Me and Bartholomew feel that in raising up a family the size of ourn,
we're doing the community a service. So we ain't afraid to take a
little help when we happen to need it. And by the way, if you should
find some of the white pieces you was talking about, maybe you wouldn't
mind cutting out the little slips and just stitching 'em up on your
machine. The needle of mine's been broke this six months, and anyway,
something's the matter with the wheels. They won't hardly turn."

"Need oil, probably," commented Persis. She knew she was wasting her
breath in making the suggestion. The shiftlessness which left the
sewing-machine useless junk in a family of eight was a Trotter
characteristic. If Bartholomew could have appreciated the value of
machine oil, he would have been an entirely different man, and probably
able to support his family. In view of this, Persis felt that she
could do no less than add: "To be sure I'll stitch 'em up. 'Twon't
take much of any time."

"Now I'm not going to keep you a minute longer. I guess Thomas Hardin
don't come here to talk to your brother the whole evening." Mrs.
Trotter smiled pleasantly, but with a distinct tinge of patronage, the
inevitable superiority of the wedded wife to the woman who has carried
her maiden name well through the thirties. And indeed in Mrs.
Trotter's estimation, the hardships of her matrimonial experience were
trivial in comparison with the unspeakable calamity of being an old
maid.

After Joel was once fairly launched on the subject of hygiene, it was
difficult, as a rule, to introduce another topic of conversation under
an hour and a quarter. Persis was almo