od earnest. "No, Avice,
don't you; you'll spoil your gown," said Eleanor, looking ashamed of her
vehemence. "See, I'll get them done. Mildred, won't you help?"

"Well, I don't mind if I do," was the rather lazy answer.

But Ankaret and Susanna declined to touch the work, the latter cynically
offering to lend her apron to Avice.

As Avice scrubbed away, she began to regret her errand. To be afflicted
with such a lifelong companion as one of these lively young ladies would
be far worse than solitude. But where was the youngest?--the quiet
little Bertha, who took after her peaceable father, and whom Avice had
rarely heard to speak? She asked Eleanor for her youngest sister.

"Oh, she's somewhere," said Eleanor carelessly.

"She took her work down to the brook," added Mildred. "She's been
crying her eyes out over Emma's going."

"Ay, Emma and Bertha are the white chicks among the black," said
Eleanor, laughing; "they'll miss each other finely, I've no doubt."

Avice finished her work, returned Susanna's apron, and instead of
requesting advice from her Aunt, went down to the brook in search of
Bertha. She found her sitting on a green bank, with very red eyes.

"Well, my dear heart?" said Avice kindly to Bertha.

The kind tone brought poor Bertha's tears back. She could only sob
out--"Emma's gone!"

"And thou art all alone, my child," said Avice, stroking her hair. She
knew that loneliness in a crowd is the worst loneliness of all. "Well,
so am I; and mine errand this very day was to see if I could prevail on
thy mother to grant me one of her young maids to dwell with me. What
sayest thou? shall I ask her for thee?"

"O Cousin! I would be so--" Bertha's ecstatic tone went no farther. It
was in quite a different voice that she said--"But then there's Father!
Oh no, Cousin. Thank you so much, but it won't do."

"That will we ask Father," said Avice.

"Father couldn't get on, with me and Emma both away," said Bertha, in a
tone which she tried to make cheerful. "He'd be quite lost--I know he
would."

"Well, but--" began Avice.

"Then he'd find his self again as fast as he could," said a gruff voice,
and they looked up in surprise to see old Dan standing behind them.
"Thou's done well, lass. Thou's ta'en advice o' thy own kind heart, and
not o' other folks. Thee take the little maid to thee, and I'll see
thee safe out on't. She'll be better off a deal wi' thee, and she can
see our Emma every da