Mrs. Rexford was putting her needle out and in with almost electric
speed. Her mind was never quiet, but there was a healthy cheerfulness in
her little quick movements that removed them from the region of weak
nervousness. Yet Sophia knit her brow, and it was with an effort that
she continued amicably:

"Certainly we should be more uncomfortable without her just now than
she would be without us; but if she left us there's no saying where her
ambition might lead her."

Mrs. Rexford bethought her that she must look at some apples that were
baking in the kitchen oven, which she did, and was back in time to make
a remark in exchange without causing any noticeable break in the
conversation. She always gave remarks in exchange, seldom in reply.

"Scotchmen are faithful to their kinsfolk usually, aren't they, Sophia?"

"You think that the uncle she wrote to will answer. He may be dead, or
may have moved away; the chances are ten to one that he will not get the
letter. I think the girl is in our hands. We have come into a
responsibility that we can't make light of."

"Good gracious, Sophia! it's only the hen with one chicken that's afraid
to take another under her wing."

"I know you want to do your best for her--that's why I'm talking."

"Oh, _I_--it's you that takes half the burden of them all."