her private use; for Wealthy did not mean to live out any more,
but have a small house of her own, and support herself by "tailorin'."
She had bought a couple of beds, a table, a few chairs, and some
cooking things, so it was possible, though not very comfortable, to
spend one night more in the house. Eyebright peeped into the empty
parlor and shut the door.

"Don't let's open it again," she said. "We'll make believe that every
thing is there still, just as it used to be, and then it won't seem so
dismal."

But in spite of "make-believes," it would have been dismal enough had
they not been too busy to think how altered and forlorn the house
looked. One more day of hard work, and all was cleared out and made
clean. Wealthy followed with her broom and actually "swept herself
out," as Eyebright said, brushing the last shreds and straws through
the door on to the steps, where the others stood waiting. Mr. Bright
locked the door. The key turned in the rusty lock with a sound like a
groan. Mr. Bright stood a moment without speaking; then he handed the
key to Wealthy, shook hands with her, and walked quickly away in the
direction of Mr. Bury's house, where he and Eyebright were to spend
the night.

Wealthy was feeling badly over the loss of her old home; and emotion,
with her, always took the form of gruffness.

"No need to set about kissing to-night," she said, as Eyebright held
up her face, "I'm a-comin' round to see you off to-morrow."

Then she, too, stalked away. Eyebright looked after her for a little
while, then very slowly she opened the garden-gate, and went the round
of the place once more, saying good-by with her eyes to each
well-known object. The periwinkle bed was blue with flowers, the
daffodils were just opening their bright cups. "Old maids," Wealthy
had been used to call them, because their ruffled edges were so neatly
trimmed and pinked. There was the apple-tree crotch, where, every
summer since she could remember, her swing had hung. There was her own
little garden, bare now and brown with the dead stalks of last year.
How easy it would be to make it pretty again if only they were going
to stay! The "cave" had fallen in, to be sure, and was only a hole in
the ground, but a cave is soon made. She could have another in no time
if only--here Eyebright checked herself, recollecting that "if only"
did not help the matter a bit, and, like a sensible child, she walked
bravely away from the garden and throug