Kitabı oku: «A Dear Little Girl's Thanksgiving Holidays», sayfa 4

Her mother looked up from the letter she was writing. "What is it, dear? Why, Edna, what a beautiful comb. Where did you get it?"

"I found it," replied Edna in an assured tone. "We all found lovely things." Then she launched forth upon an account of the afternoon's adventures.

Her mother listened attentively, and when the child had finished her tale, she drew her close to her side, kissing the little, eager face, and saying, "Dear child, I am afraid you have made a mistake. The things were not for you little girls to take."

"But mother, they didn't belong to anyone. They have been there for years and years, and nobody wants them."

"They would have to belong to some one, dear child. We will ask grandma about the house and whose property it is. Let us go find her."

They hunted up Mrs. Willis who listened interestedly to what they had to tell. "The old Topham house," she said when they had finished. "It belonged to two sisters, Miss Nancy and Miss Tabitha Topham. These two lived together for years, but finally they quarreled and each vowed that she would never speak to the other. They died within a few weeks of one another and there were no nearer heirs than distant cousins who have never troubled themselves to look after the place. Old Nathan Holcomb was the nearest neighbor and he used to keep things pretty well secured, but since his death the place has been going to rack and ruin more and more each year. There is some fine, old furniture there and it is a wonder everything in the house has not been stolen before now, but as the place has the reputation of being haunted it has been more or less avoided. I never heard of its being open to the public and I shall speak to some one who will see that it is made secure. Even if it is not valued by the present owners, it should not be left for tramps or any chance vagrant to make use of."

Edna looked down at the comb which she still held in her hand. "What must I do about this?" she asked.

"You must take it back to-morrow and restore it to its place," her mother told her. "I am perfectly sure that not one of you little girls dreamed that she had no right to take the things, but nevertheless they were not yours, and I am very certain that the other mothers will say the same thing."

"Reliance has a lovely card-case," said Edna, regretfully. "She was going to give it to you, grandma."

Mrs. Willis smiled. "I appreciate the spirit, but she must not be allowed to keep it, my dear."

Edna's face sobered. She felt much crestfallen. She wondered what Reba's father would say.

She did not have long to wait to find this out for after supper came two young callers who sidled in with rather shamefaced expressions. "Suppose you take Reba and Esther Ann into the dining-room for a little while," suggested grandma encouragingly. "Little folks like to chatter about their own affairs, I well know."

Edna shot her grandma a grateful look and soon was closeted with the little girls. "Oh, Edna, what did your mother say?" began Esther Ann.

"She said I must take back the comb, because I had no right to take it."

"That's just what my mother said," returned Esther Ann.

"My father said it's dishonest," put in Reba, "I mean dishonest to keep it. He knew we didn't mean to steal."

"Oh, Reba, don't say such a dreadful word," said Edna in distress.

"It would be stealing, you know, if we were to keep the things," continued Reba bluntly. "My father says you couldn't call it by any other name, and that to break into a house is burglary."

This sounded even more dreadful, though Esther Ann relieved the speech of its effect by saying: "But we didn't break in; we just opened the door and walked in. There wouldn't have been anyone to answer if we had knocked."

"That makes me feel kind of shivery," remarked Edna. "I would rather not go back, but I suppose we shall have to."

"Yes, we shall have to," Reba made the statement determinedly.

Therefore, it was with anything but an adventurous spirit that the four little girls went on their errand the next afternoon. There was no poking into nooks and corners this time, but straight to the bureau went they. Solemnly was each article returned to the box from which it was taken. Silently they tip-toed down the dusty stairs and through the silent rooms to the outer air where each drew a sigh of relief. Esther Ann was the first to speak. "There, that's done," she said. "I don't ever want to go there again."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

"Nor I," chanted the other three.

CHAPTER VII
THE MILL STREAM

On their way home from the old house, the four girls saw Alcinda approaching. "Don't let's say anything to her about where we've been," said Esther Ann.

"No, don't let's," returned Reba; "you know she didn't want to go there in the first place."

"It was only because she was scared to," rejoined Esther Ann.

"Well, anyhow, don't let's say anything about it," continued Reba. "Don't you say so, girls?" She looked over her shoulder at Edna and Reliance who were walking behind.

"I don't see any reason why we should," said Reliance. "Of course, if she should ask questions, we wouldn't tell her a story."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't do that," agreed the other girls.

But Alcinda had no thought of old houses or anything else at this time but her little dog, Jetty, a handsome, black Pommeranian to whom she was devoted and of whom she was very proud. "Oh, girls," she exclaimed as she came up, "have you seen or heard anything of Jetty? We haven't seen him since morning, and I am so afraid he has been stolen."

"Oh, wouldn't that be dreadful?" said Edna sympathetically.

"I don't see who would steal him," said Esther Ann, practically. "Everyone knows he belongs to you, and there aren't many strangers that come through the village."

"There are a few. There was a tramp at our back door only a few days ago."

"But you didn't lose Jet a few days ago; it was only to-day that you missed him."

"I think it's more likely he is shut up somewhere," decided Reba. "Where have you looked, Alcinda?"

"Oh, pretty near everywhere I could think of, and I have asked everybody who might have seen him."

"Maybe he has gone off with some other dogs," suggested Reliance. "Dogs will do that, and sometimes they don't come back for two or three days. Mr. Prendergast had a dog that did that way. He lives near where we used to, you know, and he had a collie named Rob Roy that would go off now and then, and the other dogs would bring him back after a while. He would come in looking so ashamed, while they stood off to see how he would be treated."

"Jetty never did run away before," said Alcinda, doubtfully, although Reliance's words were comforting.

"When did you see him last and what was he doing?" asked Esther Ann.

"Mother heard him barking at a wagon that was going by. He doesn't bark at everyone, but there are some people he can't bear."

"What people?" inquired Esther Ann, trying to get a clue.

"He doesn't like the butcher boy nor the man that drives the mill wagon, nor the man that brings the laundry. He always runs out and barks at them."

"Have you asked any of them about him?"

"No, not yet."

"Then I'll tell you what let's do, girls," proposed Esther Ann. "Two of us can go around by the mill, two of us can go to the butcher's and Alcinda can go to the laundry place."

"All right," exclaimed Alcinda hopefully. "It would be lovely if you all would do that."

"I speak to go to the butcher's," spoke up Esther Ann. She was always ready to arrange affairs for everyone. "Reliance, you and Edna can go to the mill; it isn't such a very great way, and Reba can go with me."

The girls all accepted this arrangement and set off in the three different directions.

"Do you like going to the mill?" asked Edna when she and Reliance were fairly on their way.

"Oh, yes, much better than going to the butcher's. Although it is quite a little further, it is a much prettier walk. I always did like mill ponds, didn't you, Edna?"

"Why, I don't know much about them, but I should think I would like them. Do we turn off here?"

"Yes, this road leads straight to the mill; you can see it presently through the trees."

"It isn't so very far, is it?"

"No, but it is a little further to the mill pond. I wonder if the miller is there."

"Isn't he always there?"

"He is always there in the morning, but not always in the afternoon. No, the mill is shut down."

"How do you know?"

"I don't hear it, and see there, the wheel isn't moving."

"Oh!" Edna thought that Reliance was very clever to know all this before they had even reached the mill which now loomed up before them, a grey stone structure in a little nest of trees which climbed the hill behind it, and spread along the sides of the stream, flowing on to join the river.

"It is very pretty here, isn't it?" said Edna admiringly. "What do they call the stream, Reliance?"

"Black Creek. The mill pond and dam and sluice and all those are higher up. Do you want to go see them?"

"Why, yes, if we can't do anything about finding Jetty."

"I thought we might go around by the miller's house on our way back; it isn't much further, and we could ask there."

This seemed a wise thing to do, Edna thought, and she cheerfully followed Reliance to where the mill pond lay calm and smooth before them. "It must be lovely here in summer," remarked Edna enthusiastically.

"It is one of the prettiest places anywhere about. We come here sometimes for our picnics, all of us school children and the teacher. Would you dare go across, Edna?"

Edna looked around but saw no bridge. "How could we get across?" she asked. "I don't see any way but to swim."

Reliance laughed. "There," she said, pointing to the heavy beam which stretched from shore to shore and below which the water was slowly trickling, "that's the bridge we children always use."

Edna drew back in dismay. "Oh, how can you? I wouldn't dare. It is so near the water and suppose you should fall in. I would be sure to get dizzy, and over I would go."

"Oh, pooh, I don't get dizzy," returned Reliance. "I will show you how easy it is," and in another minute she was standing on the beam, Edna shivering and with a queer sensation under her knees. "Oh, do come back, Reliance," she cried; "I am so afraid you will fall in."

But Reliance did not hear her, or if she did hear, she paid no heed, but stood looking earnestly at a point beyond her in the water. "Edna, Edna," she presently called. "You will have to come. I really believe it is Jetty out there in the water."

Edna wrung her hands. "Oh, I can't, I can't," she wept.

"You must help me try to get him in. I'll come back for you."

Edna shrank away from the shore, divided between her fear of crossing and her desire to help in the rescue. Reliance lost no time in reaching her. "You will have to come," she cried excitedly. "He is nearer the other side. I must go over and try to find a board or two, and you must stay on the beam and watch so as to see which way he heads. Poor little fellow, I wonder how long he has been in there. Come, Edna, you can put your arms around my waist and I will go ahead; you mustn't look at the water, but just step along after me; I won't let you fall."

Terrible as this effort promised to be, Edna decided that she must make it if they would save Jetty, and she followed Reliance, who, encouraging, coaxing, and leading the way step by step, managed to get the child safely across. "Isn't there any other way of getting back?" quavered Edna when they were over.

"I think there is a little bridge further down, but never mind that now, Edna; you stay there and watch, while I get a board and put it out toward him. I shouldn't wonder if I could find one somewhere about."

Fearfully, Edna crouched on the beam, which seemed but a few inches from the water. She kept her eyes fixed on the water that she might not lose sight of the little black head now not so very far away. "Jetty, Jetty," she called, "we'll get you out. Nice doggie. Please don't drown before Reliance comes."

The little dog renewed his struggles and began to swim toward her, Edna continuing her encouraging talk.

Presently Reliance came down the bank up which she had scrambled; she was dragging a board behind her and finding some difficulty in doing so. "Is he still there?" she panted.

"Yes, and trying to swim over to me."

"Don't let him, don't let him. Come over on the bank; it will be easier to get him from there. There's another board up there. I will go get it if you will hold on to this one." Edna hesitated to cross the few feet between her and the shore. "Quick, quick," insisted Reliance. "He might drift to the dam and get caught there. We must get him before he reaches it. Get down on your hands and knees and crawl."

Edna obeyed and in another moment was running along the bank toward Reliance, forgetting everything but her eagerness to save the little dog, who, seeing both girls, turned and feebly swam to where they were standing. His strength was almost spent, and he had hard work to keep from being borne along by the current which was swifter in the center of the pond.

"I'll have to shove out the board so he can reach it," said Reliance excitedly. "Here, take this pole and try to keep the board from drifting toward the dam while I go get the other board." And she thrust the forked pole into Edna's hands and then sprang up the bank, while Edna crouched down, as near the water as possible, in order to make best use of her pole.

It was not easy to keep the board from drifting out, but along the shallows it was quiet water and it did not go so very far, and before long, the little dog was able to reach it, crawling upon it and shivering while he wagged his tail feebly as Edna continued to cheer him. It was harder work now that the board was heavier by reason of the added weight, and once or twice Edna was afraid that after all her efforts would be in vain. It would be dreadful to abandon Jetty when he was so near to land, and she wished he would attempt to swim to her. But the little creature was too exhausted to make further effort now that he had reached footing, though he whined a little when the board drifted out.

Just as she was afraid it would go beyond her reach, Reliance came scrambling back, breathless from her exercise. "I had such a time," she panted. "Oh, Edna, he is really safe, and it is really poor little Jetty. How glad Alcinda will be. Here, don't let the board go." She snatched the pole from Edna's hands. "I'll hold on to it while you push out the other board. I can wade in and get him if I can't do anything else."

But once so near shore as the second board brought him, Jetty was not afraid to swim the remaining distance, having gathered up a little added strength, and after coaxing, ordering and cajoling, the girls were rewarded by seeing the little creature creep to the edge of the board, take to the water again and paddle ashore, crouching at their feet in an ecstasy of joy.

"He is so sopping wet I am afraid he will take cold," said Reliance. "I am going to wrap him up in my sweater and carry him."

"But won't you take cold," said Edna anxiously.

"No, for I am too warm with struggling up that bank and down again. We can walk fast."

At first Jetty did not even have power to shake himself, but before many minutes, his dripping coat was freed of many drops of water, which freely sprinkled the girls, who laughing ran at a safe distance, and then Reliance wrapped him up in her jersey and carried him away from the scene of his late disaster.

"How do you suppose he got in the water?" asked Edna as they trudged along.

"I think someone threw him in."

"Oh, Reliance, do you really?"

"Yes, I do. We go right by the miller's house and I am going to stop there and ask them what they know about it all."

"Do you think the miller did it?"

"Oh, no, he wouldn't do such a wicked thing; he is a very nice man, but he might have seen Jetty about the place and we may be able to find out something."

To Edna's satisfaction a small footbridge was discovered a short distance below and on this they crossed, reaching the miller's house just after. The miller himself was just going in the gate. Reliance marched up to him and without wasting words, said: "Do you know how this little dog happened to get into the mill pond?"

The miller paused and looked down at the black nose peeping from its scarlet wrapping.

"That little dog? I saw him around the mill this morning. A man that has been driving for me said he found it along the road. Is it your dog?"

"No, it belongs to Alcinda Hewlett."

"Bob Hewlett's daughter?"

"Yes, her father keeps the store and is the postmaster."

"Humph!" The miller stroked his chin and looked speculatively at the little dog.

"How do you suppose he got so far from home?" ventured Edna.

"Shouldn't wonder if he was brought in my wagon in an empty sack. Bad man, bad man, that Jeb Wilkins."

"Jetty always barked at him," said Edna.

"I guess that accounts for it. Jeb got mad and thought he'd pay the little creature back. Barked at him, did he? Well, I don't blame the dog. I did some pretty tall growling myself before I discharged the man. He's gone now for good, or bad, whichever you like."

"Do you think he threw the dog in the water?" asked Reliance coming directly to the point.

"That's just what I do think. I shouldn't wonder if he meant to steal him at first, and sell him, for it is a valuable dog, they tell me, but the dog got out, and I was keeping an eye on Jeb so he couldn't make way with the beast. I meant to take him home and advertise for his owner, but when I came to look for him, the dog was gone, though Jeb was there. Said, as innocent as you please, when I made inquiries, that some people drove by and took the dog back to town where he belonged."

"Oh!" exclaimed Edna, her eyes and mouth round with surprise and disapproval.

"Just what he said. Made it up out of whole cloth, of course, and meantime had taken his spite out on me and the poor little dog by throwing him overboard. How did you happen upon him?"

Reliance gave an account of the rescue and received approving nods. "Smart girls, you two," he commented.

"Oh, I wasn't smart at all," piped up Edna. "It was all Reliance. I couldn't have done a thing without her."

"Well," said Mr. Millikin with a smile, "you did your part, and that's enough said. I was just going to unhitch, but there is my buggy all ready, and I guess the quickest way to get you back to the village is to take you there behind Dolly."

"Oh, but we can walk, thank you," protested Reliance.

"It's pretty much of a walk, and the sooner you get there the more pleased several people will be, I for one, because I don't want Bob Hewlett's little girl to mourn for her pet any longer than she need, and again, because I am in a way responsible for what has happened. I'll go get the buggy right off. You wait here; it won't take a minute." So presently they were driving along toward home, Reliance with a horse blanket around her which Mr. Millikin fished out from under the seat and insisted upon her putting around her shoulders.

To say that Alcinda was overjoyed at the sight of her little pet which she had given up for lost, would be speaking mildly. "I'll never forget you two girls, never," she cried. "I shall thank you forever and ever, and you, too, Mr. Millikin."

"Me? I'm partly to blame, for I ought to have discharged that good-for-nothing scoundrel long ago, but he was a good driver, and I was waiting to fill his place. Well, it's all come out right, after all. I hope your little dog will be none the worse for the experience. I'll pay his doctor's bills if he gets sick." After which speech, the miller drove off, and the rescuers darted across the street to their home, where the tardiness of their appearance was entirely forgiven after they had told their story.

CHAPTER VIII
JETTY'S PARTY

Grandma was so concerned lest Edna had taken fresh cold by reason of this latest adventure that she insisted upon putting the little girl through a course of treatment to prevent possible evil results. "After dabbling in that cold water and getting her feet wet it will be a wonder if she isn't laid up," said grandma, coming into the room just as Edna was going to bed. "She must have her feet in mustard water, and Amanda is making a hot lemonade for her."

So Edna's feet were thrust into the hot bath, and she was made to sip the hot drink, then was bundled into bed with charges not to allow her arms out from under the covers. It was rather a warm and unpleasant experience, and the worst of it was that grandma said the next morning that she mustn't think of going out-of-doors that day.

"Oh, dear," sighed the little girl, when she was alone with her mother, "don't you think grandma is very particular? Did she used to do so when you were a little girl?"

"She did indeed, and when she was a little girl it was even worse, for instead of lemonade to drink, she was made to take a very bitter dose of herb tea, or a dreadful mess called composition which had every sort of nauseous thing in it you can think of. Little folks nowadays get off very easily, it seems to me."

"I didn't mind the hot lemonade a bit, but I shall never forget the smell of that mustard water," said Edna after a pause.

Her mother laughed. "You must be thankful that it is no more than that."

"What am I going to do to-day?" inquired the little girl. "I was going to do ever so many nice things out-of-doors and now I can't."

"Then we must think up some nice things to do indoors."

"What kind of things?"

"I shall have to put on my thinking cap in order to find that out. Meanwhile, suppose you run down to grandma with this tumbler; it had your lemonade in it and should go down to be washed."

Edna ran off to her grandma, coming back presently with a much brighter countenance than she took away. "Grandma is going to let me help with the turtle cakes," she said eagerly. "That's a very nice thing, don't you think?"

"I think that is very nice indeed."

"Amanda is mixing them now, and when they are cut out, I am going to help with the turtles. Good-bye, mother; I will bring you one of my turtles as soon as they are baked."

These turtle cakes were much prized by the Conway children. When grandma sent a box from the farm there was always a supply of these famous cookies. Grandma had promised that Edna should take some home with her when she went on Saturday morning. She watched Amanda roll them out, cut them in rounds and place them in the pans; then came Edna's part in the preparation. Amanda showed her how to put first a big fat raisin in the center of the cake, then a current for the turtle's head, four cloves were then stuck in, part way under the raisin, thus making the feet, and for the tail, another clove with the sharp end out. Amanda could do them much faster than Edna, but the child was greatly pleased to have completed a whole pan all by herself, and when these were baked she carefully carried some of them to her mother and Aunt Alice. Grandma had already seen the results of her granddaughter's labors.

"I know just how to do them now, mother," said Edna, "and I think it is great fun. Grandma is going to save the pan I did so I can have them to carry home."

"You might have a tea-party for the dolls this afternoon, and use some of your cookies for refreshments."

"Could Reliance come?"

"Why, I should think so. I have thought of something else for you to do this morning; you could begin a Christmas gift for Celia. You know you always have a hard time keeping her gift a secret."

"What kind of thing could I make?"

"I noticed that your sister's little work bag was getting rather dingy and I am sure she would be delighted to have a new one."

"But where will I get anything to make it of?"

"No doubt grandma has something in her piece-bag; she always has all sorts of odds and ends, and it would give her pleasure to let you have anything that might serve the purpose. I will ask her, and we can get the ribbons for it any time between now and Christmas."

Her mother was as good as her word, and leaving the room came back in a few minutes with a large bag whose contents she emptied on the bed. "There," she said, "take your choice. Grandma says you are perfectly welcome to anything you find."

Edna began turning over the pieces. "You help me choose, mother," she said presently. "I don't know just how big the piece ought to be."

Her mother drew up her chair and began to look over the bits of gay silk before her. "I declare," she said presently, "here is a piece of a party frock I wore when I was about Celia's age. It was almost my first real new party frock, for before that I always wore a simple white muslin. This is perfectly new, and must have been left over. To think of its being in this bag all those years. It appears to be sufficiently strong, however." She shook it out and held it up to the light. The material was a pale green silk with tiny bunches of flowers upon it. Edna thought it very pretty.

"I think Celia will be perfectly delighted to have a bag made of your first party frock, mother," she said. "Do you think grandma would mind my having it?"

"I am sure she will be very much pleased. We will decide upon that, and you can put back the rest of the pieces. There will be an abundance in this for a nice, full bag I am sure. I will cut it out for you and show you just how to make it."

The time passed so rapidly in planning and making the bag that it was the dinner hour before they knew it, and after dinner came an unexpected call from Alcinda. She was a sedate-looking little girl with big blue eyes and straight, mouse-colored hair, but upon this occasion she was dimpling and smiling as she handed a tiny, three-cornered note to Edna. Upon opening this Edna discovered, written in a childish hand, the following words, "Mr. Jetty Hewlett requests the honor of Miss Edna Conway's company to a tea-party at four o'clock this afternoon."

"Oh, dear," sighed Edna, "I'm awfully afraid I can't go, for grandma said it was as much as my life was worth to go out of the house to-day."

"Oh, but you aren't ill, are you?" asked Alcinda.

"No, but she is afraid I will be."

"But you must come," persisted Alcinda, "for it is in honor of you and Reliance, and Jetty is going to help receive."

"I will go ask mother," returned Edna, and running off she returned with Mrs. Conway.

"Mayn't Edna come to Jetty's tea-party?" begged Alcinda. "We have everything planned, and it will be perfectly dreadful if she stays away. She won't take cold, just going across the street, and our house is as warm as anything."

Edna looked beseechingly at her mother. "Do please say yes, mother," she begged.

"I don't see how you could take cold going just across the street, if you wrap up well and wear your rubbers," said her mother.

"Goody! Goody!" cried Alcinda. "Here is an invitation for Reliance, too. Be sure to come at four o'clock. I have some more invitations to deliver so I must go."

"Now I needn't have a tea-party for the dolls," said Edna when Alcinda had gone. Her mother smiled. "You speak as if that would be a great hardship," she remarked.

"No, I don't mean that, but I would so much rather go to Alcinda's. Shall I wear my best frock, mother?"

"Why, yes, I think you may."

"I wonder if grandma will let Reliance go, and what she will wear," said Edna, after a moment's thought. "I think I will go ask, mother, for I don't want to be better dressed than Reliance; it was really she who saved Jetty, you know."

"That is the proper feeling, dear child."

Edna flew off to find Reliance who had received her invitation, and hoped for the permission from Mrs. Willis. "I do hope she will let me go," she said fervently. "Come with me, Edna, when I ask her, won't you?"

Edna was very ready to do this, and hunted up her grandmother. "Oh, grandma," she cried, "we've been invited to a party over at Alcinda's. Jetty is giving it in honor of Reliance and me. Mother says I won't take cold just going across the street, and you are going to let Reliance go, too, aren't you?"

"What's all this?" inquired grandma.

Edna repeated her news, but her grandmother did not reply for a moment. "I am afraid Reliance will not be back in time to do her evening work," she said at last.

"Oh, but – " this was an unexpected objection, "couldn't she do some of it before she goes?"

"She might do some, but not all, however, we will see. Reliance, you bustle around and see how smart you can be, and I will think what can be done."

"I can set the table," said Edna eagerly. "Would you mind if it were done so much ahead of time for just this once?"

"No," replied her grandmother very kindly.

"And may I skim the milk and bring up the butter for supper? I can set it in the pantry where it will keep cool," Reliance said.

"You may do that," Mrs. Willis told her.

"What else will there be to do?" asked Edna, as the two little girls hurried from the room.

"I have to turn down the beds and light the lamps when it gets dark."

"That isn't very much to do. Maybe Amanda wouldn't mind seeing to those things for just this one time. I am going to ask her."

Reliance was only too glad to have Edna take this request off her hands, herself having a wholesome awe of Amanda, but to her relief Amanda was in a good humor and promised to look after these extra duties, so in good season Reliance was free to prepare for the party, while Edna went to her mother to be dressed.

"Mother," she said, "do you think it is funny to go to a party with a bound girl? Is a bound girl the same as a Friendless? You know Margaret McDonald is our friend, and she used to be a Friendless."

"I don't think it is funny at all. Reliance had no home, to be sure, till your grandmother took her, but she is a good, little girl, and I used to know her father when I lived here."

"Oh, mother, did you?"

"Oh, yes, he was quite a nice, young man. I never knew his wife, but I am afraid he did not marry very well. Reliance will probably have to work for her living, but that is no reason why she should not be treated as an equal. The people about here know she comes of good stock and that the poverty of the family was due more to misfortune than misbehavior. I have no doubt but Reliance will make a fine woman, as her grandmother was, and when she is grown up, she may marry some farmer of the neighborhood, and take the place she should."