ngth
portrait of her own mother, the books in the library, and the gay
companies, the silver and fine dishes, and all the servants.

Not that Primrose boasted. She was very free from such a fault. It was
not hers, either, and she had no sense of possession. She spoke of her
life at her uncle's as well, of the quiet at the farm, of the sewing and
spinning.

"I shall learn to spin another year," said Hannah with interest. "I like
the merry, buzzing sound. And when I am tall enough for the big wheel I
shall enjoy running to and fro. I have an uncle at Germantown who
weaves. Mother lets us visit him now and then, and I delight in that."

Hannah had so many aunts and cousins that the little girl quite envied
her.

Bella Morris had a great deal to say about her newly married aunt, who,
after all, was no real relation, but her father's sister-in-law. She had
married a Mr. Mathews, a well-to-do widower with two growing-up sons who
were among the mischievous lads of the day, for even then signs were
reversed and gates carried off and front stoops barricaded; even windows
were broken in sport, the sport seeming to be chiefly in the adroitness
with which one could parry suspicion. They had a house on Spruce Street,
set in the midst of a considerable garden, while not a few respectable
business men lived over their stores and offices. Polly Morris really
grudged her sister-in-law the good fortune, for Hester had been left
much worse off than she, but Hester had no incumbrances, and was
younger.

In January another congress met, and there was a warm discussion about
home manufactures. Underneath was a seething mass ready to bubble over
at another turn of the screws. England had utterly refused to listen to
the colonists or accede to their wishes. Franklin returned home
heavy-hearted indeed, and though he counseled prudence and moderation,
and could not believe there would be what he foresaw, if it came to an
open issue, would prove a long and bitter struggle. But the gun was
fired at Lexington, and the State of Massachusetts stood forth an
undisguised rebel.

One market day Andrew came in again. Primrose had wondered at his long
absence. There had been many things to disturb the serenity of the
peaceful farmhouse. A sister of Aunt Lois' who had cared for the mother
during years of widowhood was taken down, and died after a short
illness. The mother, old and feeble, and wandering in her mind, needed
constant care. There were