"I found quite a fresh piece behind the door," said Lydia. "See; I've
put all the good pieces from the different rooms together, and marked
them. I was wondering if Mr. Daggett could go to Boston for me? I'm
sure he could match the papers there. You could go, too, if you cared
to."

"To Boston!" exclaimed Mrs. Daggett; "me and Henry? Why, Miss Orr,
what an idea! But Henry couldn't no more leave the post office--he
ain't never left it a day since he was appointed postmaster. My, no!
'twouldn't do for Henry to take a trip clear to Boston. And me--I'm
so busy I'd be like a fly trying t' get off sticky paper.... I do
hate to see 'em struggle, myself."

She followed the girl up the broad stair, once more safe and firm,
talking steadily all the way.

There were four large chambers, their windows framing lovely vistas
of stream and wood and meadow, with the distant blue of the far
horizon melting into the summer sky. Mrs. Daggett stopped in the
middle of the wide hall and looked about her wonderingly.

"Why, yes," she said slowly. "You certainly did show good sense in
buying this old house. They don't build them this way now-a-days.
That's what I said to Mrs. Deacon Whittle-- You know some folks
thought you were kind of foolish not to buy Mrs. Solomon Black's
house down in the village. But if you're going to live here all
alone, dearie, ain't it going to be kind of lonesome--all these big
rooms for a little body like you?"

"Tell me about it, please," begged Lydia. "I--I've been wondering