ir in this house but what's full.'"

And Nan laughed as heartily as could have been desired before she
asked Mrs. Jake a few more appreciative questions about her ailments,
and then rose to go away. Mrs. Martin followed her out to the gate;
she and Nan had always been very fond of each other, and the elder
woman pointed to a field not far away where the brothers were watching
a stubble-fire, which was sending up a thin blue thread of smoke into
the still air. "They were over in your north lot yisterday," said Mrs.
Martin. "They're fullest o' business nowadays when there's least to
do. They took it pretty hard when they first had to come down to
hiring help, but they kind of enjoy it now. We're all old folks
together on the farm, and not good for much. It don't seem but a year
or two since your poor mother was playing about here, and then you
come along, and now you're the last o' your folks out of all the
houseful of 'em I knew. I'll own up sometimes I've thought strange of
your fancy for doctoring, but I never said a word to nobody against
it, so I haven't got anything to take back as most folks have. I
couldn't help thinking when you come in this afternoon and sat there
along of us, that I'd give a good deal to have Mis' Thacher step in
and see you and know what you've made o' yourself. She had it hard for
a good many years, but I believe 't is all made up to her; I do
certain."

Nan meant to go back to the village by the shorter way of the little
foot-path, but first she went up the grass-grown lane toward the old
farm-house. She stood for a minute looking about her and across the
well-known fields, and then seated herself on the door-step, and
stayed there for some time. There were two or three sheep near by,
well covered and rounded by their soft new winter wool, and they all
came as close as they dared and looked at her wonderingly. The narrow
path that used to be worn to the door-step had been overgrown years
ago with the short grass, and in it there was a late little dandelion
with hardly any stem at all. The sunshine was warm, and all the
country was wrapped in a thin, soft haze.

She thought of her grandmother Thacher, and of the words that had just
been said; it was beginning to seem a very great while since the days
of the old farm-life, and Nan smiled as she remembered with what tones
of despair the good old woman used to repeat the well-worn phrase,
that her grandchild would make either something or not