him porin' over 'em winter nights with two candles."

"There, you see! they're Parson Lamson's books. Many a good word he got
out of 'em for his sermons, I'll bet ye a dollar. Why, ye recollect how
much Parson Lamson done for this town, how he got up sewin'-circles in
war-time an' set everybody to scrapin' lint, an' climbed out of his bed
after he couldn't hardly stand with rheumatism to say good-by to the
boys when they enlisted, an' how he wrote to 'em an' prayed for
'em--why, them books are wuth their weight in gold. How much am I
offered for Parson Lamson's books? A dollar-seventy--Why, bless you, Tim
Fry, there ain't a book there but's wuth a dollar-seventy taken by
itself! Why, I'll start it myself at thirteen--"

"Oh, don't you do it, Cap'n, don't you do it!" called Miss Letty
piercingly. "I don't want 'em to bid on gran'ther's books. I want them
books myself, if I have to work my fingers to the bone."

The cap'n took out his beautiful colored handkerchief with Joseph and
his brethren on it, and wiped his face.

"Gone!" said he, "to Miss Letty Lamson. Now, ladies an' gentlemen,
here's a little chair. I know that chair, an' so do you. It's the chair
little Letty Lamson used to set in when she wa'n't more'n three year
old, an' her mother used to keep her out under the sweet-bough tree in
that little rocker whilst she was washin' or churnin'! What?"

He paused, for Miss Letty had waved a frantic hand. The tears were
running down her cheeks. The others had before them the picture of
little Letty Lamson swaying and singing to herself, but she saw the
brown apple-stems over her head and smelled the bitter-sweetness of the
blooms. She saw her mother's plump bare arms as they went up and down
with the churn-dasher or in and out of the suds, and felt again the pang
of love that used to tell her that mother was the most beautiful
creature in the world.

"Why," said she, regardless of her listeners, "I wouldn't part with that
chair for a hundred dollars. How ever come you to think I'd part with my
little chair?"

The cap'n was looking at her in a frank perplexity.

"The chair," said he, "remains the property of our friend and neighbor,
Miss Letty Lamson. Now, ladies an' gentlemen, here's a fire-set--tongs,
shovel, an' andirons. That fire-set has been in this very settin'-room
as long as I can remember. Summer-times the andirons have been trimmed
up with sparrergrass an' the like o' that, an' winter-times they've be