story, or whether it is a Holabird at all--bought land here ever so
many years ago, and built a large, plain, roomy house; and here the
boys grew up,--Roderick and Rufus and Stephen and John.

Roderick went into the manufactory with his father,--who had himself
come up from being a workman to being owner,--and learned the
business, and made money, and married a Miss Bragdowne from C----, and
lived on at home. Rufus married and went away, and died when he was
yet a young man. His wife went home to her family, and there were no
little children. John lives in New York, and has two sons and three
daughters.

There are of us--Stephen Holabird's family--just six. Stephen and his
wife, Rosamond and Barbara and little Stephen and Ruth. Ruth is Mrs.
Holabird's niece, and Mr. Holabird's second cousin; for two cousins
married two sisters. She came here when she had neither father nor
mother left. They thought it queer up at the other house; because
"Stephen had never managed to have any too much for his own"; but of
course, being the wife's niece, they never thought of interfering, on
the mere claim of the common cousinship.

Ruth Holabird is a quiet little body, but she has her own particular
ways too.

There is one thing different in our house from most others. We are all
known by our straight names. I say _known_; because we do have little
pet ways of calling, among ourselves,--sometimes one way and sometimes
another; but we don't let these get out of doors much. Mr. Holabird
doesn't like it. So though up stairs, over our sewing, or our
bed-making, or our dressing, we shorten or sweeten, or make a little