know there are things money can't buy."

"Mebbe you wouldn't want it, if you was t' see it," was Mrs. Dodge's
honest opinion. "It's all turned yellow, an' the pink flowers are
mostly rubbed off. I remember it was real pretty when we first got
it. It used to belong to Mrs. Bolton's little girl. I don't know as
anybody's told you, but they had a little girl. My! what an awful
thing for a child to grow up to! I've often thought of it. But mebbe
she didn't live to grow up. None of us ever heard."

"Mother!" called Fanny, from the front seat of the carryall. "We're
waiting for you."

"In a minute, Fanny," said Mrs. Dodge.... "Of course you can have
that table I spoke of, Miss Orr, and anything else I can find in the
attic, or around. An' I was thinking if you was to come down to the
Ladies' Aid on Friday afternoon--it meets at Mrs. Mixter's this week,
at two o'clock; you know where Mrs. Mixter lives, don't you? Well;
anyway, Mrs. Solomon Black does, an' she generally comes. But I know
lots of the ladies has pieces of that furniture; and most of them
would be mighty glad to get rid of it. But they are like my
Fanny--kind of contrary, and backward about selling things. I'll talk
to Fanny when we get home. Why, she don't any more want that old
painted set--"

"Mother!" Fanny's sweet angry voice halted the rapid progress of her
mother's speech for an instant.

"I shouldn't wonder if the flies was bothering th' horse," surmised
Mrs. Dodge; "he does fidget an' stamp somethin' terrible when the