cautious, but not too much so for mental noting of the conservation
of time and space and labor represented by an arrangement of
household effects I had never seen before. Health and comfort were
the principal omissions.

In one corner of the room was a bed covered with a calico quilt of
many colors, and under it a pallet, tucked away for convenience in
the daytime, but obviously out at night. Close to the bed was a
large stove in which a good fire was burning, and from the
blue-and-white saucepan on the top came forth odor of a soup with
which I was not familiar. The door of the oven was partly open, and
in the latter could be seen a pan of heavy-looking biscuits which
apparently awaited their devouring at any time that suited the desire
of the devourer. Bettina looked at them and then at me, but she said
nothing--that is, nothing out loud.

"Set down." Mrs. Gibbons, the baby still in her arms, made effort to
dust one of the two chairs in the room with the gingham apron she was
wearing, and, after failing, motioned me to take it. The other one
she pushed toward Bettina with her foot. On the bed was a little
girl of six or seven, and as we took our seats a boy, who barely
looked ten, came from behind a couple of wash-tubs in an opposite
corner of the room and wiped his hands on a towel hanging from a hook
in the wall. To ask something concerning this boy was the purpose of
our visit.

"Speak to the lady, Jimmy. Anybody would think you didn't have no
manners! No, you can't have your supper yet."

Mrs. Gibbons waved her hand weakly at her son, who, smiling at us,