but the air is pure there."

There was no gossip about Daniel and Miss
Sarah Dean. Gossip would have seemed about as
foolish concerning him and a dry blade of field-grass.
Sarah Dean looked like that. She wore rusty black
gowns, and her gray-blond hair was swept curtain-
wise over her ears on either side of her very thin,
mildly severe wedge of a face. Sarah was a notable
housekeeper and a good cook. She could make an
endless variety of cakes and puddings and pies, and
her biscuits were marvels. Daniel had long catered
for himself, and a rasher of bacon, with an egg,
suited him much better for supper than hot biscuits,
preserves, and five kinds of cake. Still, he did not
complain, and did not understand that Sarah's fare
was not suitable for the child, until Dr. Trumbull
told him so.

"Don't you let that child live on that kind of food
if you want her to live at all," said Dr. Trumbull.
"Lord! what are the women made of, and the men
they feed, for that matter? Why, Daniel, there are
many people in this place, and hard-working people,
too, who eat a quantity of food, yet don't get enough
nourishment for a litter of kittens."

"What shall I do?" asked Daniel in a puzzled way.

"Do? You can cook a beefsteak yourself, can't