actual use.

She conveyed her wishes through Matilda, as a sort of human telephone.
"Matilda," she would say, "will you ask Rosemary to fill the tea-pot
with hot water?" And, again: "Matilda, will you tell Rosemary to put out
the milk pitcher and to lock the back door?" It was not necessary;
however, for Matilda to tell Rosemary. The girl accepted the requests as
though they had been given directly--with her head held high and the
faintest shadow of an ironical smile upon her face.

[Sidenote: Left in the Dark]

After supper, while Rosemary was washing the dishes, Grandmother took
the lamp. She was half-way to the door when Matilda inquired: "Where are
you goin', Ma?"

"I'm goin' up to my room, to set and read a spell."

"But--but the lamp?"

"I need it to read by," Grandmother announced, with considerable
asperity, "and you don't need to hunt around for no more lamps, neither.
I've got 'em all put away."

"But," Matilda objected; "me and Rosemary----."

"You and Rosemary! Humph! You can set in the dark or anywhere else you
please." With that she slammed the door and was gone. Rosemary came in,
after a little, humming to herself with an assumed cheerfulness she was
far from feeling. Then she went out into the kitchen and came back with
a match. The feeble flicker of it revealed only Aunt Matilda--and no
lamp.

"Where's Grandmother?" asked Rosemary, in astonishment. "And what has
become of the lamp?"

"She's gone up to her room and she's took the lamp with her," Matilda
laughed, hysterically.

[Sidenote: Aunt Matilda's Troubles]

Rosemary brought in the candle from the kitchen. As it happened, it was
the last candle and was nearly gone, but it would burn for an hour or
two.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Matilda," said Rosemary, kindly, "if you want to read,
or anything----."

"I don't," she interrupted. "I'd like to sit and talk a spell. I don't
know as we need the candle. If she should happen to come back, she'd be
mad. She said she'd put away the lamps, and I reckon she'd have took the
candle, too, if she'd thought."

"Very well," answered Rosemary, blowing out the candle. "I'm not afraid
of the dark." Moreover, it was not the general policy of the household
to ruffle Grandmother's temper unnecessarily.

"Rosemary," said Aunt Matilda, a little later; "Ma's a hard woman--she
always has been."

"Yes," the girl agreed, listlessly.

"I ain't never said much, but I've had my own troubles. I've tried to
bear '