thought to take her in and give her a home----"

"No, no! I am sure she will earn her living here."

"But none of us--folks that had knowed her for years--thought to give
the poor old critter a chanst," burst out the lady. "Oh, I know Cyrus
wouldn't 'a' heard to our taking her; and I dunno as we could have
exactly afforded it, for me an' Sairy is amply able to do the work; but
our Ladies' Aid never thought to do a thing for her--nor nobody else,"
declared Mrs. Pritchett.

"You two gals was ministerin' angels. I don't suppose we none of us really
knowed how Mis' Harrison felt about going to the poorhouse. But we didn't
inquire none, either.

"And here's Lyddy! My dear, I'm too fat to get down easy. I hope you'll
come and shake hands with me."

"Why--certainly," responded Lyddy. "And I am really glad to see you, dear
Mrs. Pritchett."

She had evidently overheard some, if not all, of the good lady's earnest
speech. Harris Colesworth appeared, too, and Professor Spink was right
behind him.

"You stopped for me, as I asked you to, Lucas?" asked the young chemist.

"Sure, Mr. Colesworth."

"Miss Lydia is going, too," said the young man.

"That'll fill the bill, then, sir," said Lucas, grinning.

"But I say!" exclaimed the professor, suddenly. "Can't you squeeze _me_
in? I'm going over the hill, too."

"Don't see how it kin be done, Professor," said Lucas.

"But you said you thought that there'd be an extra seat----"

"Didn't know maw was going, then," replied the unabashed Lucas.

"And Somers has driven off to school with his old mare," exclaimed Spink.

"I believe he has," observed Harris.

"This is a pretty pass!" and Mr. Spink was evidently angry. "I've just
_got_ to get to that vendue."

"I'm afraid you'll have to walk--and it's advertised to begin in ha'f an
hour," quoth Lucas.

"Say! where's your other rig?" demanded the professor. "I'll hire it."

"Dad's plowin' with the big team," said Lucas, flicking the backs of the
ponies with his whip, as they started, "and our old mare is lame. Gid-up!

"That Jud Spink is gittin' jest as pop'lar 'round here as a pedlar sellin'
mustard plasters in the lower regions!" observed young Pritchett, as they
whirled out of the yard.

"Why, Lucas Pritchett! how you talk!" gasped his mother.

The widow's auction sale--or "vendue"--brought together, as such affairs
usually do in the country, more people, and aroused a deal more interest,
than does a funeral.

Th