a home.

Therefore the rooms in the old mansion were taken. A stout, cheery
Englishwoman, who with her plump, red arms was fighting life's
battle for herself and a brood of little ones, was engaged to clean
up and prepare for the furniture. Mildred was eager to get settled,
and her father, having ordered such household goods as they required
to be sent from their place of storage the following day, repaired
to his place of business.

"Now, miss," said sensible Mrs. Wheaton, "I don't vant to do hany
more than yer vants done, but hif I was you I'd give hall these
'ere vails a coat hof lime. Vitevash is 'olesome, yer know, and
sweetens heverything; hit'll kind o' take haway the nasty taste
those drunken people left."

"Please whitewash, then, and use plenty of lime. If you can sweeten
these rooms, do so by all means, but I fear that result is beyond
your brush or any other."

"You've seen better days, miss, and I 'ave meself; but yer mustn't
be down'arted, yer know. See 'ow the sunshine comes in, and ven
hit falls hon a carpet, a little furniture, and yer hown people,
these 'ere rooms vill soon grow 'omelike, and yer'll come back to
'em hafteryer day's vork's hover gladly henough. I s'pose yer'll
vork, since you've come hamong people who must vork hearly and
late."

"Yes, indeed, we'll work--that is all we ask for."