"No, I haven't!" said Harriet, who would tell the truth about this
rankling misfortune.

"Well, then, it was because the men knew you wouldn't have them."

"No, it wasn't!" said Harriet, "it was because they knew I would."

"Nonsense!" cried Miss Anna, impatiently. "You mustn't try to palm
off so much mock modesty on me, Harriet."

"Ah, I am too old to fib about it, Anna! I leave _that_ to my many
sisters in misfortune."

Harriet looked at her friend's work curiously: she was darning
Professor Hardage's socks.

"Why do you do that, Anna? Socks are dirt cheap. You might as
well go out into the country and darn sheep."

"Ah, you have never had a brother--my brother! so you cannot
understand. I can feel his heels pressing against my stitches when
he is walking a mile away. And I know whenever his fingers touch
the buttons I have put back. Besides, don't you like to see people
make bad things good, and things with holes in them whole again?
Why, that is half the work of the world, Harriet! It is not his
feet that make these holes," continued Miss Anna, nicely, "it is
his shoes, his big, coarse shoes. And his clothes wear out so
soon. He has a tailor who misfits him so exactly from year to year
that there is never the slightest deviation in the botch. I know
beforehand exactly where all the creases will begin. So I darn and
mend. The idea of his big, soft, strong feet making holes in
anything! but, then, you have never tucked him in bed at night, my
dear, so you know nothing about his feet."

"Not I!" said Harriet, embarrassed but not shocked.

Miss Anna continued fondly in a lowered voice: "You should have
heard him the other day when he pulled open a drawer: 'Why, Anna,'
he cried, 'where on earth did I get all these new socks? The
pair I left in here must have been alive: they've bred like
rabbits.'--'Why, you've forgotten,' I said. 'It's your birthday;
and I have made you over, so that you are as good as new--_me_!'"

"I never have to be reminded of my birthday," remarked Harriet,
reflectively. "Anna, do you know that I have lived about
one-eighth of the time since Columbus discovered America: doesn't
that sound awful!"

"Ah, but you don't look it," said Miss Anna, artistically, "and
that's the main object."

"Oh, I don't feel it," retorted Harriet, "and that's the main
object too. I'm as young as I ever was when I'm away from home;
but I declare, Anna, there are times when my mother can