food we have eaten and the night's lodging I have taken."

The black-and-white apparition went through the motion of clapping her
hands, but not a sound did she make. Perhaps Mr. Chapley was cowed by
Rilla's tone--or perhaps he was appeased at the prospect of payment; at
all events, he spoke more civilly.

"Well, that's fair. If you pay up it's all right."

"She shall do no such thing as pay you," said Madam Black-and-White in
a surprisingly clear, resolute, authoritative tone of voice. "If you
haven't got any shame for yourself, Robert Chapley, you've got a
mother-in-law who can be ashamed for you. No strangers shall be charged
for room and lodging in any house where Mrs. Matilda Pitman lives.
Remember that, though I may have come down in the world, I haven't
quite forgot all decency for all that. I knew you was a skinflint when
Amelia married you, and you've made her as bad as yourself. But Mrs.
Matilda Pitman has been boss for a long time, and Mrs. Matilda Pitman
will remain boss. Here you, Robert Chapley, take yourself out of here
and let that girl get dressed. And you, Amelia, go downstairs and cook
a breakfast for her."

Never, in all her life, had Rilla seen anything like the abject
meekness with which those two big people obeyed that mite. They went
without word or look of protest. As the door closed behind them Mrs.
Matilda Pitman laughed silently, and rocked from side to side in her
merriment.

"Ain't it funny?" she said. "I mostly lets them run the length of their
tether, but sometimes I has to pull them up, and then I does it with a
jerk. They don't dast aggravate me, because I've got considerable hard
cash, and they're afraid I won't leave it all to them. Neither I will.
I'll leave 'em some, but some I won't, just to vex 'em. I haven't made
up my mind where I will leave it but I'll have to, soon, for at eighty
a body is living on borrowed time. Now, you can take your time about
dressing, my dear, and I'll go down and keep them mean scallawags in
order. That's a handsome child you have there. Is he your brother?"

"No, he's a little war-baby I've been taking care of, because his
mother died and his father was overseas," answered Rilla in a subdued
tone.

"War-baby! Humph! Well, I'd better skin out before he wakes up or he'll
likely start crying. Children don't like me--never did. I can't
recollect any youngster ever coming near me of its own accord. Never
had any of my own. Amelia was my step-daughte