oes seem as if you'd ought to go once," said Mrs. Green.

"I say, let's start up an' go!" cried Mrs. Babcock, in an intense
voice.

The three women looked at each other.

"Abby could keep house for father a few days," said Mrs. Green, as if
to some carping judge; "an' it ain't goin' to cost much, an' I know
father'd say go."

"Well, I guess I can cook up enough victuals to last Adoniram and the
boys whilst I'm gone," said Mrs. Babcock defiantly; "I guess they can
get along. Adoniram can make rye puddin', an' they can fill up on rye
puddin' an' molasses. I'm a-goin'."

"I dunno," said Amanda, trembling. "I'm dreadful afraid I hadn't
ought to."

"Well, I should think you could go, if Mis' Green an' I could," said
Mrs. Babcock. "Here you ain't got nobody but jest yourself, an' ain't
got to leave a thing cooked up nor nothin'."

"I would like to see Mis' Field an' Lois again, but it seems like a
great undertakin'," sighed Amanda. "Then it's goin' to cost
something."

"It ain't goin' to cost but jest three dollars an' sixty cents," said
Mrs. Babcock. "I guess you can afford that, Mandy. There your
tenement didn't stay vacant two weeks after the Fields went; the
Simmonses came right in. I guess if I had rent-money, an' nobody but
myself, I could afford to travel once in a while."

"Now you'd better make up your mind to go, Mandy," Mrs. Green said.
"I think Mis' Field would be more pleased to see you than anybody in
Green River. That's one thing I think about goin'. I know she'll be
tickled almost to death to see us comin' in. Mis' Field's a real good
woman. There wa'n't anybody in town I set more by than I did by her."

"When did you hear from her last, Mandy?" interposed Mrs. Babcock.

"About a month ago."

"I s'pose Lois is a good deal better?"

"Yes, I guess she is. Her mother said she seemed pretty well for her.
I s'pose it agrees with her better down there."

"I s'pose there was a good deal more fuss made about her when she was
here than there was any need of," said Mrs. Babcock, her whole face
wrinkled upward contemptuously; "a great deal more fuss. There wa'n't
nothin' ailed the girl if folks had let her alone, talkin' an'
scarin' her mother to death. She was jest kind of run down with the
spring weather. Young girls wilt down dreadful easy, an' spring up
again. I've seen 'em. 'Twa'n't nothin'."

"Well, I dunno; she looked dreadfully," Mrs. Green said, with mild
opposition.

"Well, you can see how