a likely woman who would, if she proved energetic,
economical, and amiable, be eventually raised to the proud position of
his wife. If she was young, healthy, smart, tidy, capable, and a good
manager, able to milk the cows, harness the horse, and make good butter,
he would give a dollar and a half a week. The woman was found, and,
incredible as it may seem, she said "yes" when the Deacon (whose ardor
was kindled at having paid three months' wages) proposed a speedy
marriage. The two boys by this time had reached the age of discretion,
and one of them evinced the fact by promptly running away to parts
unknown, never to be heard from afterwards; while the other, a reckless
and unhappy lad, was drowned while running on the logs in the river. Old
Foxy showed little outward sign of his loss, though he had brought the
boys into the world solely with the view of having one of them work on
the farm and the other in the store.

His third wife, the one originally secured for a housekeeper, bore him
a girl, very much to his disgust, a girl named Patience, and great was
Waitstill's delight at this addition to the dull household. The mother
was a timid, colorless, docile creature, but Patience nevertheless was a
sparkling, bright-eyed baby, who speedily became the very centre of the
universe to the older child. So the months and years wore on, drearily
enough, until, when Patience was nine, the third Mrs. Baxter succumbed
after the manner of her predecessors, and slipped away from a life that
had grown intolerable. The trouble was diagnosed as "liver complaint,"
but scarcity of proper food, no new frocks or kind words, hard work, and
continual bullying may possibly have been contributory causes. Dr. Perry
thought so, for he had witnessed three most contented deaths in
the Baxter house. The ladies were all members of the church and had
presumably made their peace with God, but the good doctor fancied that
their pleasure in joining the angels was mild compared with their relief
at parting with the Deacon.

"I know I hadn't ought to put the care on you, Waitstill, and you only
thirteen," poor Mrs. Baxter sighed, as the young girl was watching with
her one night when the end seemed drawing near. "I've made out to live
till now when Patience is old enough to dress herself and help round,
but I'm all beat out and can't try any more."

"Do you mean I'm to take your place, be a mother to Patience, and keep
house, and everything?" asked Wa