said, despondingly, as she laid by each plate the three-lined forks of
steel, to pay for which Helen and Katy had picked huckleberries on the
hills and dried apples from the orchard.

"Never mind, mother," Helen answered, cheerily; "if Katy is as she used
to be, she will care more for us than for silver forks, and I guess she
is, for I imagine it would take a great deal to make her anything but a
warmhearted, merry little creature."

This was sensible Helen's tribute of affection to the little, gay,
chattering butterfly, at that moment an occupant of Uncle Ephraim's
corn-colored wagon, and riding with that worthy toward home, throwing
kisses to every barefoot boy and girl she met, and screaming with
delight as the old familiar waymarks met her view.

"There are the oxen, the darling oxen, and that's Aunt Betsy, with her
dress pinned up as usual," she cried, when at last the wagon stopped
before the door; and the four women stepped hurriedly out to meet her,
almost smothering her with caresses, and then holding her off to see if
she had changed.

She was very stylish in her pretty traveling dress of gray, made under
Mrs. Woodhull's supervision, and nothing could be more becoming than her
jaunty hat, tied with ribbons of blue, while the dainty kids, bought to
match the dress, fitted her fat hands charmingly, and the little
high-heeled boots of soft prunella were faultless in their style. She
was very attractive in her personal appearance, and the mental verdict
of the four females regarding her intently was something as follows:
Mrs. Lennox detected unmistakable marks of the grand society she had
been mingling in, and was pleased accordingly; Aunt Hannah pronounced