ither. I don't see why
they couldn't all have been grandmothers instead of mothers."

James was not the first boy who had wished such a thing. But he knew he
had to go home, and that was all there was about it.

Martha wanted to go also. She had bought a good stout English
cambric--lively colored, as she called it--and a nice woolen or stuff
frock, as goods of that kind was often called. She was going to do up
her last summer's white frock to be married in. They would have a
wedding supper at her father's and then go home, and begin housekeeping
the next morning. Mrs. Leverett added a tablecloth to her store.

Betty must be sent for imperatively. Her mother was afraid she would be
quite spoiled. And she could not help wishing that Mrs. King would be a
little more careful and not branch out so, and Mary take life a little
easier, for Mr. Manning was putting by money and had his large farm
clear.

Then Aunt Priscilla was suddenly at sea. Jonas Field had bought a place
of his own where he could live over the store. In spite of a changed
name, King Street had dropped down and down, and was now largely given
to taverns. The better class had kept moving out and a poorer class
coming in, with colored people among them. No one had applied for the
store, but a man who wanted to keep a tavern combined with a kind of
sailor lodging house had made her a very good offer to buy the property.

"I'm going to live my time out in this very house," declared Aunt
Priscilla with some of her olden energy. "I came here when I was married
and I'll stay to be buried. By the looks of things, it won't be a great
many years. And I haven't made a sign of a will yet! Not that the
Perkinses would get anything if I died in this state--that aint the
word, but it means the same thing, not having your will made, and I aint
quite sure after all that would be right. I worked and saved, and I had
some when we were married, but husband had farsight, and knew how to
turn it over. Some of his money ought to go back to his folks."

This had been one of the decisions haunting Aunt Priscilla's conscience.
Down at the bottom she had a strict sense of justice.

"It is hardly nice to go there any more," said Aunt Elizabeth. "And I
shall not enjoy a young girl like Betty running over there, if Aunt
Priscilla shouldn't be very well, and she is breaking. Polly gets worse
and really is not to be trusted."

It was Polly after all who settled the matter, or the su