sister, not wishing to leave too strong an impression of the young
man's virtue.

They had all now their settled places in the parlour. Hetta sat on
one side of the fire, close to the table, having that side to
herself. There she sat always busy. She must have made every dress
and bit of linen worn in the house, and hemmed every sheet and
towel, so busy was she always. Sometimes, once in a week or so,
Phineas Beckard would come in, and then place was made for him
between Hetta's usual seat and the table. For when there he would
read out loud. On the other side, close also to the table, sat the
widow, busy, but not savagely busy as her elder daughter. Between
Mrs. Bell and the wall, with her feet ever on the fender, Susan used
to sit; not absolutely idle, but doing work of some slender pretty
sort, and talking ever and anon to her mother. Opposite to them
all, at the other side of the table, far away from the fire, would
Aaron Dunn place himself with his plans and drawings before him.

"Are you a judge of bridges, ma'am?" said Aaron, the evening after
he had made his resolution. 'Twas thus he began his courtship.

"Of bridges?" said Mrs. Bell--"oh dear no, sir." But she put out
her hand to take the little drawing which Aaron handed to her.

"Because that's one I've planned for our bit of a new branch from
Moreau up to Lake George. I guess Miss Susan knows something about
bridges."

"I guess I don't," said Susan--"only that they oughtn't to tumble
down when the frost comes."