succession of the seasons, she was not called upon to accommodate
herself to new conditions. It was a gentle change at first: as the
days grew shorter and the house and cellar were being made ready for
winter, her grandmother seemed to have much more to do than usual, and
Nan must stay at home to help. She was growing older at any rate; she
knew how to help better than she used; she was anxious to show her
grandmother how well she could work, and as the river side and the
windy pastures grew less hospitable, she did not notice that she was
no longer encouraged to go out to play for hours together to amuse
herself as best she might, and at any rate keep out of the way. It
seemed natural enough now that she should stay in the house, and be
entrusted with some regular part of the business of keeping it. For
some time Mrs. Thacher had kept but one cow, and early in November,
after a good offer for old Brindle had been accepted, it was announced
to Nan's surprise that the young cow which was to be Brindle's
successor need not be bought until spring; she would be a great care
in winter time, and Nan was to bring a quart of milk a day from Jake
and Martin's. This did not seem an unpleasant duty while the mild
weather lasted; if there came a rainy day, one of the kind neighbors
would leave the little pail on his way to the village before the young
messenger had started out.

Nan could not exactly understand at last why Mrs. Jake and Mrs. Martin
always asked about her grandmother every morning with so much interest
and curiosity, or why they came oftener and oftener to help with the
heavy work. Mrs. Thacher had never before minded her occasional
illnesses so much, and some time passed before Nan's inexperienced
eyes and fearless young heart understood that the whole atmosphere
which overhung the landscape of her life had somehow changed, that
another winter approached full of mystery and strangeness and