and show them that I don't mean to shirk my duty,
though I do want to be nice," thought she, as she sat at supper one
night and looked about her, planning her first move.

Not a very cheering prospect for a lover of the beautiful, certainly,
for the big kitchen, though as neat as wax, had nothing lovely in it,
except a red geranium blooming at the window. Nor were the people all
that could be desired, in some respects, as they sat about the table
shovelling in pork and beans with their knives, drinking tea from their
saucers, and laughing out with a hearty "Haw, haw," when anything amused
them. Yet the boys were handsome, strong specimens, the farmer a hale,
benevolent-looking man, the housewife a pleasant, sharp-eyed matron, who
seemed to find comfort in looking often at the bright face at her elbow,
with the broad forehead, clear eyes, sweet mouth, and quiet voice that
came like music in among the loud masculine ones, or the quick, nervous
tones of a woman always in a hurry.

Merry's face was so thoughtful that evening that her father observed it,
for, when at home, he watched her as one watches a kitten, glad to see
anything so pretty, young, and happy, at its play.

"Little daughter has got something on her mind, I mistrust. Come and
tell father all about it," he said, with a sounding slap on his broad
knee as he turned his chair from the table to the ugly stove, where
three pairs of wet boots steamed underneath, and a great kettle of cider
apple-sauce simmered above.

"When I've helped clear up, I'll come and talk. Now, mother, you sit
down and rest; Roxy and I can do everything," answered Merry, patting
the old rocking-chair so invitingly that the tired woman could not
resist, especially as watching the kettle gave her an excuse for
obeying.

"Well, I don't care if I do, for I've been on my feet since five
o'clock. Be sure you cover things up, and shut the buttery door, and put
the cat down cellar, and sift your meal. I'll see to the buckwheats last
thing before I go to bed."

Mrs. Grant subsided with her knitting, for her hands were never idle;
Tom tilted his chair back against the wall and picked his teeth with
his pen-knife; Dick got out a little pot of grease, to make the boots
water-tight; and Harry sat down at the small table to look over his
accounts, with an important air,--for every one occupied this room, and
the work was done in the out-kitchen behind.

Merry hated clearing up, but dutifully did