Then he opened the door and called, and Mrs. Whitman immediately
responded. Her hands were white with flour. She had been making
biscuits. She still looked nervous and excited.

"What is to pay now?" said she.

Henry told her in few words.

"You mean that Abrahama's niece was taken care of by Miss Farrel when
her mother died, and Miss Farrel got a place for her to live with
some New York folks, and you mean Miss Farrel was related to her
mother?" said Sylvia. She looked sharply at Henry.

"Yes," he replied, feebly. Horace stood looking out of the window.

"She wa'n't," said Sylvia.

"Now, Sylvia."

"If that poor woman that's gone wanted the girl to think she was her
relation enough to lie about it I sha'n't tell her, you can depend on
that; but it's a lie," said Sylvia. "Miss Farrel wa'n't no relation
at all to Susy White. She couldn't have been unless she was related
to me, too, on my mother's side, and she wa'n't. I know all about my
mother's family. But I sha'n't tell her. I'm glad Miss Farrel got a
home for her. It was awful that the child was left without a cent. Of
course she must come here, and stay, too. She ought to live with her
folks. We've got enough to take care of her. If we can't do as much
as rich folks, I guess it will be full as well for the girl."