in little curls. It's so
much less trouble if it is made of natural curly hair."

"Are you going to set up for fashion in these hard times?" asked the
visitor disdainfully.

"Not quite. But Betty Pickering is to be married in great state next
month, and we have been invited already. I suppose I ought to consider
her in some sort a namesake."

"I'm glad I haven't any fine relatives to be married," and the sniff was
made to do duty.

Mrs. Leverett put down her sewing. She had drawn the threads and basted
the wristbands and gussets for Betty to stitch, as they had come to
shirt-making. The new ones of thick cotton cloth would be good for
winter wear. One had always to think ahead in this world if one wanted
things to come out even.

Then she went out to the kitchen, and there was a gay chattering, as if
a colony of chimney swallows had met on a May morning. Aunt Priscilla
pushed up nearer the window. She had good eyesight still, and only wore
glasses when she read or was doing some extra-fine work.

Betty came in and rolled out the table as she greeted her relative. Aunt
Priscilla had a curiously lost feeling, as if somehow she had gone
astray. No one ever would know about it, to be sure. There were times
when it seemed as if there must be a third power, between God and the
Evil One. There were things neither good nor bad. If they were good the
Lord brought them to pass,--or ought to,--and if they were bad your
conscience was troubled. Aunt Priscilla had been elated over her idea
all day yesterday. It looked really generous to her. Of course Cousin
Winthrop couldn't be bothered with this little foreign girl, and the
Leveretts had a lot of grandchildren. She might take this Dorothy Adams,
and bring her up in a virtuous, useful fashion. She would go to school,
of course, but there would be nights and mornings and Saturdays. In two
years, at the latest, she would be able to take a good deal of charge of
the house. All this time her own little fortune could be augmenting,
interest on interest. And if she turned out fair, she would do the
handsome thing by her--leave her at least half of what she, Mrs.
Perkins, possessed.

And yet it was not achieved without a sort of mental wrestle. She was
not quite sure it was spiritual enough to pray over; in fact, nothing
just like this had come into her life before. She was not the kind of
stuff out of which missionaries were made, and this wasn't just
charitable work. She would