invalid. "But remember, every cent of this you git back."

"Every cent, just as soon as Lyman is old enough to take a job,"
agreed Mrs. Burgoyne. "There, how's that? That's the way Colonel
Burgoyne liked to be fixed."

"You're to make a note of just what it costs," persisted Mrs. Peet,
"this wrapper, and the pillers, and all."

"Oh, let the wrapper be my present to you, Mrs. Peet!"

"No, MA'AM!" said Mrs. Peet, firmly. And she told the neighbors,
later, in the delightfully exciting afternoon and evening that
followed her installation on the porch, that she wasn't an object of
charity, and she and Mrs. Burgoyne both knew it. Mrs. Burgoyne would
not stay to see Viola's face, when she came home from the hospital
to find her mother watching the summer stars prick through the warm
darkness, but Viola came up to the Hall that same evening, and tried
to thank Mrs. Burgoyne, and laughed and cried at once, and had to be
consoled with cookies and milk until the smiles had the upper hand,
and she could go home, with occasional reminiscent sobs still
shaking her bony little chest.

"What are you trying to do over there?" asked Dr. Brown, coming in
with his wife for a rubber of bridge, as Viola departed. "Whereever
I go, I come across your trail. Are we nursing a socialist in our
bosom?"

"No-o-o, I don't think I'm that," said Sidney laughing, and pushing
the porch-chairs into comfortable relation. "Let's sit out here