ee weeks. When I got so I could knit,
my yarn was gone. I never knew what become of it; and one of the women
used to borrow my shoes for her little girl, and she wore 'em out So,
come spring, I was just where I was the year before, only lonesomer,
cause Jinny was gone."

"And did you stay there?"

"To the poor-house? No; Betty Crosfield wanted a girl to come and help
her. She took in washing for Mr. Furniss's hands. She said I wa'n't
strong enough to earn much, but she would pay me in clothes. She give me
a Shaker bonnet and an old gown that the soap had took the color out of,
and she made a tack in it, so's it did. And I had my cape. When
strawberries come, the hands was most all gone, and she let me sleep
there, and go day-times after berries, and she to have half the pay.
That's how I got my red calico and my shawl."

"Who made your dress, Rhoda?"

"Miss Reeny, I carried it over to see if she'd cut it out, and she said
she'd make it if they'd let her, and they did. And I got her some green
tea. She used to say sometimes, she'd give anything for a cup of green
tea, such as her mother used to have."

"Who is Miss Reeny?"

"A woman that lives over there. Her father used to be a doctor; but he
died, and she was sickly and didn't know as she had any relations, and
by and by she had to go there. They say over there she ain't in her
right mind, but I don't know. She was always good to me. There was an
old chair with a cushion in it, and Miss Reeny wanted it to sit in,
'cause her back was lame; but old Mrs. Fitts wanted it too, and they
used to spat it. So Miss Holbrook come there one day to see the place,
and somebody told her about the cushioned chair, and, if you'll believe
it, the very next day there was one come over as good again, with arms
to it, and a cushion, and all. Miss Holbrook sent it over to Miss Reeny.
None of 'em couldn't take it away."

"And is she there now?"

"Yes, she can't go nowhere else. One night Betty Crosfield said I
needn't come there no more; she was going to take a boarder. Berry-time
was most over, so then I got a place to Miss Stoney's, the milliner. She
agreed to give me twenty-five cents a week, and I thought to be sure I
should get back my shoes and yarn now. But one morning the teapot was
cracked, and she asked me, and I said I didn't do it,--and I didn't; but
she said she knew I did, because there wasn't nobody but her and me that
touched it, and she should keep my wages till th