ticed afterward, and it was true her eyelids seemed more transparent,
and her eyes had a watery light.

I knew she was weak, and since the snow had fallen was chilled more
easily than before, and had ventured out but little. I did not desire to
pain Louis, but feeling uneasy, could not rest until I talked with him,
and he said his heart had told him the little mother would leave us ere
long. "If she lives till the fall, we will go down and see Southern
Mary, if we can." Little Emily clung very closely to Clara, and if I had
not insisted on having the care of her, I believe she never would have
asked for me. Mother said we should spoil her, and Ben declared she
"would make music for us by and by." Ben was still interested in his
work, and as busy as a bee the long days through.

"Thirty-three years old," I said to him, "are you never to be married?"

"Guess not," he would reply laughingly, "I can't see how Hal could get
on without me, and I, in my turn, need John. What a splendid fellow he
is! They all like him around us here, and I believe I shall sell out the
mill to him and buy another farm to take care of. He handles logs as
easily as if they were matches. He is a perfect giant in strength."

"Yes, I know, Ben, but he never will live in a saw-mill. John is
destined to be a public man; he will have calls and by and bye will
stand in the high places and pour forth his eloquence. He may buy a
saw-mill, but he will never keep himself in it, no matter how hard he
tries."

"So my cake is all dough, you think, so be it, sister mine;" and baby
Emily received a bear hug from Uncle Ben, who, a moment later, was
walking thoughtfully over the hill.

The eighteenth of March was a cold day, extraordinarily so, tempestuous
and stormy. Louis had been in Boston three days, and we thought the
winds were gathering a harsh welcome for his return. His visits to
Boston were getting to be quite frequent nowadays, for he had found
some warm friends there, who had introduced themselves by letter, and
now they were making united efforts to found a home for
children,--foundlings who were to be kept and well cared for, until
opportunities were presented to place them with kind people in good
homes. He was getting on wonderfully, and I could hardly wait for the
news he would bring to us.

He came at last, and with him an immense square package looking in shape
very like a large mirror or a painting, and I wondered what it could be.
Baby