"Yep, they'll take ye, I bet ye--Aunt Jane an' Uncle Frank will!"

"Well, that's good, I'm sure."

"Yep. An' it'll be easy, too. Why, Aunt Jane'll just tumble over
herself ter get ye, if ye just mention first what yer'll PAY. She'll
begin ter reckon up right away then what she'll save. An' in a minute
she'll say, 'Yes, I'll take ye.'"

"Indeed!"

The uncertainty in Mr. Smith's voice was palpable even to eight-year-
old Benny.

"Oh, you don't need ter worry," he hastened to explain. "She won't
starve ye; only she won't let ye waste anythin'. You'll have ter eat
all the crusts to yer pie, and finish 'taters before you can get any
puddin', an' all that, ye know. Ye see, she's great on savin'--Aunt
Jane is. She says waste is a sinful extravagance before the Lord."

"Indeed!" Mr. Smith laughed outright this time. "But are you sure, my
boy, that you ought to talk--just like this, about your aunt?"

Benny's eyes widened.

"Why, that's all right, Mr. Smith. Ev'rybody in town knows Aunt Jane.
Why, Ma says folks say she'd save ter-day for ter-morrer, if she
could. But she couldn't do that, could she? So that's just silly talk.
But you wait till you see Aunt Jane."