four to five tumblerfuls of water a day. She never ate to excess, and
frequently remarked: "I think more people suffer from over-eating than
from insufficient food." An advocate of deep breathing, she spent as
much of her time as she could spare from household duties in the open
air.

[Illustration: AUNT SARAH]

Sarah Landis was not what one would call beautiful, but good and
whole-souled looking. To quote her husband: "To me Sarah never looks
so sweet and homelike when all 'fussed up' in her best black dress on
special occasions, as she does when engaged in daily household tasks
around home, in her plain, neat, gray calico dress."

This dress was always covered with a large, spotlessly clean, blue
gingham apron of small broken check, and she was very particular about
having a certain-sized check. The apron had a patch pocket, which
usually contained small twists or little wads of cord, which, like
"The Old Ladies in Cranford," she picked up and saved for a possible
emergency.

One of Aunt Sarah's special economies was the saving of twine and
paper bags. The latter were always neatly folded, when emptied, and
placed in a cretonne bag made for that purpose, hanging in a
convenient corner of the kitchen.

Aunt Sarah's gingham apron was replaced afternoons by one made from
fine, Lonsdale cambric, of ample proportions, and on special occasions
she donned a hemstitched linen apron, inset at upper edge of hem with
crocheted lace insertion, the work of her own deft fingers. Aunt