dmother, who sat in her rocking-chair
knitting, "I would have two or three new rooms finished off over the
wood-shed, and then you could accommodate a few more of that sort. Just
like you!"

And she took a pinch of snuff from a little silver-lidded box made of a
sea-shell. She took it precipitately,--a sign that she was slightly
disturbed. This snuff-box, however, was a safety-valve.

Uncle Bradburn smiled quietly and made no reply.

"We will leave it to Dorothy," said Aunt Janet. "It is only fair, for
she will have all the trouble."

Uncle Bradburn regarded the point as gained: he was sure of Dorothy. But
he added by way of clincher, "Probably the girl never knew a month of
kind treatment in her life, and one would like her to have a chance of
seeing what it is. Just imagine a child of fifteen subjected to the
veriest vixen in the country. There is some excuse for old Mrs.
Kittredge, too, exasperated as she is by disease. No wonder if she is
not very amiable; but that makes it none the less hard for the child."

So the upshot of the matter was, that Rhoda Breck was installed nominal
aid to Dorothy.

Uncle brought her the next day in his sulky,--a slight little creature,
with a bundle as large as herself.

Presently she appeared at the sitting-room door. She was scarcely taller
than a well-grown ten-years child. She wore a dress of gay-hued print, a
bright shawl whose fringe reached lower than the edge of her skirt, and
on her head an old-world straw bonnet decorated with a mat of crushed
artificial flowers, and a faded, crumpled green veil. The small head had
a way of moving in quick little jerks, like a chicken's; and it was odd
to see how the enormous bonnet moved and jerked in unison. The face and
features were small, except the eyes, which were large and wide open,
and blue as turquoise.

She took time to look well around the room before she spoke:--"Well, I'm
come; I suppose you've been expecting of me. See here, be I going to
sleep with that colored woman?"

It was not possible to know from her manner to whom the query was
addressed; but Aunt Janet replied, "No, Rhoda, there is a room for you.
We never ask Dorothy to share her room with any one." Then, turning to
me, "Go and show Rhoda her room, my dear."

I rose to obey. Rhoda surveyed me, as if taking an inventory of the
particulars which made up my exterior; and when I in turn felt my eyes
attracted by her somewhat singular aspect, she remarked, in