any too much consolation, and that's a fact. But it does seem
real good to be here; and if you'll jest send one of the boys after my
things I'll stay. I locked up and left my bag on the back door-step."

The poor-mistress confided to old lady Peaseley that "there wasn't as
much satisfaction in havin' Mirandy as if she hadn't got proputty, even
if she didn't seem to feel it none: she couldn't help feelin' as if the
minister 'n' his wife had come to tea;" and she opened the best room,
with all its glories of hair-cloth furniture, preserved funeral wreaths,
and shell Bunker Hill Monument, and had the spare chamber swept and
garnished. The poor-house was certainly a good place in which to get
"chippered up." There were few happier households in the county; there
was not one where jollity reigned as it did there.

From Captain Hezekiah Butterfield, generally known as Cap'n 'Kiah, an
octogenarian who was regarded as an oracle, down to Tready Morgan, a
half-witted orphan, the inmates of the poor-house had an enjoyment of
living astonishing to behold. It had been hinted at town-meeting that
the keeper of the poor-farm was a "leetle mite too generous and
easy-going," especially as he insisted upon furnishing the paupers with
"store" tea and coffee, whereas his predecessor, Hiram Judkins, had made
them drink bayberry tea, a refreshment which old Mrs. Gerald, a pauper
whose wits were wandering, and who was familiarly known as "Marm Bony,"
because she cherished a conviction that she was the empress Josephine,
declared was "no more consolin' than meadow hay."

Seth Bemis and his wife made the farm pay: so the town voted to wink at
the store-tea. And they suited the paupers,--which was even more
difficult than to suit the town officers.

Miranda's arrival had created quite an excitement among the inmates of
the poor-house. They had all heard that she had fallen heir to almost
ten thousand dollars, and there was curiosity to see how she would
comport herself under this great accession of fortune.

Miranda stoutly resisted the charms of the best room, and sat down with
the paupers in the great kitchen after supper. For the spare chamber she
showed some weakness, for the little back chamber which she usually
occupied during her visits to the poor-farm was next to Oly Cowden's
room, and Oly had a way of rapping on her wall in the dead of the night
for somebody to bring her a roasted onion to avert a peculiarly bad
dream to which she