would find all spick and span,
the old floor white and sanded, the few tins and the pewter spoons
shining upon the shelf, the brick hearth and jambs aglow with fresh
"redding," table and chairs set back in rectangular tidiness. Only one
thing made a litter, or tried to; a yellow canary that hung in the
window and sang "like a house afire," as Aunt Hoskins said, however that
is, and flung his seeds about like the old "Wash at Edmonton," "on both
sides of the way." Prissy was turned out of doors in all pleasant
weather, so otherwise the keeping-room stayed trim, and her curly hair
grew sunburnt.

"She's ben deef ever sence she hed the scarlet-fever. Walk in," said the
woman, by no means satisfied to let strangers get only the outside
impression of her premises, and turning round to lead the way without
waiting for a reply. "Come in, Prissy!" she bawled, illustrating her
summons with what might be called a beckoning in broad capitals, done
with the whole arm from finger-tips to shoulder, twice or thrice.

Leslie followed over the threshold, and Prissy ran by like a squirrel,
and perched herself on a stool just under the bird-cage.

"I wouldn't keep it if 't warn't for her," said Aunt Hoskins
apologetically. She was Prissy's aunt, holding no other close domestic
relation to living thing, and so had come to be "Aunt Hoskins" in the
whole region round about, so far as she was known at all. "It's the only
bird she can hear sing of a morning. It's as good as all outdoors to
her, and I hain't the heart to make her do without it. _I_'ve done
without most things, but it don't appear to me as if I _could_ do
without them. Take a seat, do."

"I thank you, but my friends are waiting. I've brought something for
Prissy, from Miss Craydocke at the hotel." And Leslie held out the
package which Dakie Thayne, waiting at the door, had put into her hand
as she came in.

"Lawful suz, Prissy! if 't ain't another book!" cried the good woman, as
Prissy, quick to divine the meaning of the parcel, the like of which she
had been made accustomed to before, sprang to her aunt's side within
hearing of her exclamation. "If she ain't jest the feelingest and
thoughtfullest--Well! open it yourself, child; there's no good of a
bundle if you don't."

Poor Prissy was thus far happy that she had not been left in the
providence of her little life to utter ignorance of this greatest
possible delight--a common one to more outwardly favored children--of a