r displaying a
grand array of freshly baked loaves, wearing the golden-brown tint that
hints at such savory sweetness, "that girl, for a white girl, is going
to make a most a splendid cook. I never touched this bread, and just you
see! ain't it perfindiculur wonderful?"

Soon after, I found Rhoda, with her dress tidily pinned out of harm's
way, standing at a barrel, and poking vigorously with a stick longer
than herself.

"What now, Rhoda! what are you doing there?"

"Come here and look at the soap, Miss Kate. I made it every bit myself;
ain't it going to be beautiful?"

"Why do you care to do such things, Rhoda?"

"I'll tell you," in a low voice; "perhaps when Joe comes home, some time
he'll buy himself a little place and let me keep house for him; then I
shall want to know how to do everything."

"Rhoda, I believe you can do everything already."

"No, I can't wring," looking piteously from one little hand to the
other. "I can iron cute, but I can't wring. Dorothy says that is one
thing I shall have to give up, unless I can make my hands grow. Do you
suppose I could?"

"No; you must make Joe buy you a wringer. Can you make butter?"

"O yes, when the churning isn't large. Likely Joe won't keep more than
one cow."

I looked at the eager little thing, wondering if her hope would ever be
realized. She divined my thought, and glanced at me wistfully. "You
think this is a dream; you think I shall wake up.

"No, no," I answered; "I wonder what Joe will think when he sees what a
mite of a sister he has. He'll make you stand round, Rhoda, you may be
sure of that."

"May be he isn't any larger himself," she responded, with a ready,
bright smile.

* * * * *

Brother Ned's next letter brought the welcome tidings that he hoped to
come home the ensuing August, and that Joseph Breck would probably come
at the same time.

June went, and July. Rhoda grew restless; she was no longer constantly
at work; she began to listen nervously for every train of cars. I was
glad to believe that the brother for whom she held in readiness such
lavish love was deserving of it. She grew prettier every day. The
uncouth dress was gone forever, the hideous bonnet burned up, and the
gay shawl made over to Miss Reeny, who admired and coveted it. Hepsy
herself was not more faultlessly quiet and tasteful in her attire. I was
sure that Joe, if he had eyes at all, must be convinced that his sister
was worth co