ine expectations. Andy was delighted with the
piano, and so was Eunice, the hired girl, who left her ironing and her
dishes, standing with wiping towel or flatiron in hand, humming an
accompaniment to Andy's playing, and sometimes helping to find the
proper key to touch next.

Eunice was not an Irish girl, nor a German, nor a Scotch, but a
full-blooded American, and "just as good as her employers," with whom
she always ate and sat. It was not Mrs. Markham's custom to keep a girl
the year round, but when she did it was Eunice Plympton, the daughter of
the drunken fiddler who earned his livelihood by playing for the dances
the young people of Olney sometimes got up. He was anticipating quite a
windfall from the infair it was confidently expected would be given by
Mrs. Markham in honor of her son's marriage; and Eunice herself had
washed and starched and ironed the white waist she intended to wear on
the same occasion. Of course she knew she would have to wait and tend
and do the running, she said to Melinda, to whom she confided her
thoughts, but after the supper was over she surely might have one little
dance, if with nobody but Andy.

This was Eunice, and she had been with Mrs. Markham during the past
summer; but her time was drawing to a close. All the heavy work was
over, the harvests were gathered in, the soap was made, the cleaning
done, the house made ready for Richard's wife, and it was the
understanding that when that lady came and was somewhat domesticated,
Miss Eunice was to leave. There was not much to do in the winter, Mrs.
Markham said, and with Richard's wife's help she should get along. Alas!
how little Ethelyn was prepared for the home which awaited her, and for
the really good woman, who, on the afternoon of her son's arrival, saw
into the oven the young turkey which Andy had been feeding for so very
long with a view to this very day, and then helped Eunice set the table
for the expected guests.

It did occur to Mrs. Markham that there might be a great propriety in
Eunice's waiting for once, inasmuch as there were plates to change, and
custard pie and minced, and pudding, to be brought upon the table, for
they were having a great dinner, but the good woman did not dare hint at
such a thing, so the seven plates were put upon the table, and the china
cups brought from the little cupboard at the side of the chimney, and
the silver teapot, which was a family heirloom, and had been given Mrs.
Markham by he