but seasoned through and through--the
Colesworths fairly reveled in them. The fresh bread and good butter,
and the flaky wedges of apple pie, each flanked by its pilot of cheese,
were likewise enjoyed.

"If you can put us up only half comfortably," declared the elder
Colesworth, bowing to Lyddy, "I can tell you right now, young lady, that
we will stay. Let us see your rooms, we will come to terms, and then
I'll take a nap, if you will allow me. I need it after this heavy dinner.
Why, Harris! I haven't eaten so heartily for months."

"Never saw you sail into the menu with any more enjoyment, Dad," declared
his son, in delight.

But Lyddy made her sister show them over the house. They were some time in
making up their minds regarding the choice of apartments; but finally
they decided upon one of the large rooms the girls proposed making over
into bed-chambers on the ground floor. This room was nearest the east
wing, had long windows opening upon the side porch, and with the two small
beds removed from the half-furnished rooms on the second floor of the
east wing, and brought downstairs, together with one or two other pieces
of furniture, the Colesworths declared themselves satisfied with the
accommodations.

Young Colesworth would come out on Saturdays and return Monday mornings.
He would arrange with Lucas to drive him back and forth. And the old
gentleman would come out, bag and baggage, on the coming Monday to take
possession of the room.

To bind the bargain Harris handed Lyddy fifteen dollars, and asked for a
receipt. Fifteen dollars a week! Lyddy had scarcely dared ask for it--had
done so with fear and trembling, in fact. But the Colesworths seemed to
consider it quite within reason.

"Oh, 'Phemie!" gasped Lyddy, hugging her sister tight out in the kitchen.
"Just think of _fifteen dollars_ coming in every week. Why! we can all
_live_ on that!"

"M--m; yes," said 'Phemie, ruminatively. "But hasn't he a handsome nose?"

"Who--what---- 'Phemie Bray! haven't you anything else in your head but
young men's noses?" cried her sister, in sudden wrath.

But it was a beginning. They had really "got into business," as their
father said that night at the supper table.

"I only fear that the work will be too much for us," he observed.

"For 'Phemie and me, you mean, Father," said Lyddy, firmly. "You are
not to work. You're to get well. _That_ is your business--and your only
business."

"You girls will baby me to de