father had been found hanging there, and could not
have gone to the garret himself to save his life.

He went hurrying out of the house, determined now to make the
disappearance public. He would go to the depot, there were always some
men there at this time. The church-bell began to ring for
Wednesday-evening meeting, and she had always gone so regularly; he
would hurry back there, and tell the people as they came. The train
went by slowly to stop at the station, it was a little behind time. He
hurried on, looking down as he walked. To tell the truth, he was
thinking about the funeral, and suddenly he heard a familiar voice
say,--

"Well, Joseph! I suppose you thought I was lost!"

"Heavens and earth, Aunt Catherine! Where have you been?" And he
caught her by the shoulder, and felt suddenly like crying and laughing
together. "I never had any thing come over me so in all my life," said
he to his wife and Miss Stanby, as they went home later that evening.
"I declare, it took the wits right out of me."

Miss Catherine looked brighter than she had that afternoon, the
excitement really had done her good; she told her adventure as they
hurried home together. When they reached the house Martha Spring and
Miss Stanby kissed her, and cried as if their hearts would break.
Joseph looked out of the window a few minutes, and then announced that
he would go out and see to the horse.

The tears were soon over with; and, as soon as it seemed decent,
Mrs. Martha said, "Aunt Catherine, do tell me where you got that
pretty hood! I wish I had seen it when I first got here, to take the
pattern. Isn't it a new stitch?"

"Dear me! haven't I taken it off?" said Miss Catherine. "Well, you
must excuse me if I am scatter-witted. I feel as if I had been gone a
week."

They had supper directly--that very late supper! They were all as
hungry as hunters, even poor little Miss Stanby; and the re-action
from such suspense made the guests merry enough, while, as was often
said, Miss Catherine was always good company. The cream-tartar
biscuits were none the less good for being cold. Joseph hadn't eaten
such gingerbread since he was there before; and the tea was made fresh
over a dry-shingle fire, which blazes in a minute, as every one knows.
There were more than enough pound-cakes; and Martha asked all over
again how Miss Catherine made her preserves, for somehow hers were
never so good; while Miss Catherine meekly said that she had not had
suc