out was even probable. It was Miss Joey's
own notion that one half the house should be let.

"We are so dwindled down," she said. "A small, quiet family would bring
in a little something, and be company." This was at the close of a long
and rather lonely winter.

So, one day, Mr. Lane came home, and said he had let the other half to a
family from up-country,--man and wife and little girl.

"The very thing!" said Miss Joey.

Alas for human foresight!

The next day, at sundown, a loaded wagon drove up; then a carryall, from
which stepped an elderly couple and a sweet pretty girl.

"What angel is that, alighting upon earth?" I exclaimed, looking over
Miss Joey's head.

"Thought she was goin' to be a little girl," said she.

"Wal," replied Mr. Lane, "that's what he called her: suppose she seems
little to him. But so much the better. The bigger she is, the more
company she'll be."

Miss Joey went in to receive them, and I retired to my chamber. From the
window I observed that the pretty girl was very handy about helping, and
heard her mother call her Mary Ellen.

The next morning, just as I was leaving for the office, I heard a quick
step across the entry. The door opened, and "the little girl," Mary
Ellen, came in. Her hair was pushed straight behind her ears, and her
sleeves were rolled up to the elbows.

"I came in," said she, rather bashfully, "to ask if Mr. Lane would help
us set up a bedstead; father had to go, and mother's feeble."

"Mr. Lane's gone to get his horse shod," said Miss Joey.

Mary Ellen stood still, doubting whether to speak, but looking rather
puzzled; for David was in plain sight, fixing his pickerel-traps in the
back-room.

"Miss Joey," said I, smiling, and looking towards him, "there are two
Mr. Lanes, you know."

"Oh, David,--yes,--David. Wal, so David could."

And so David did. I bit my lip, and went out.

In turning the corner of the house, I passed the open window, and
glanced in, as was natural. 'Twas an old-fashioned bedstead, and there
was David, red as a rose, screwing up the cord, while Mary Ellen, fair
as a lily, was hammering away at the wooden peg, while the old lady
stood by, giving directions.

It struck me so queerly that I laughed and talked to myself all the way
to the office.

"Poor David!" I muttered, "how could he steady his hands, with such a
pair of white arms near them? Good! good!" And then I would ha! ha! and
strike my stick against the stones. "Turne