le bright eyes, which saw every thing, soon spied her out in the
woodshed asking Mr. Parker "if Polly Grundy couldn't be kept in the
kitchen where she belonged."

Scarcely had she left the shed when Miss Grundy herself appeared,
fretting about "the meddlesome old widow who had come there stickin'
round before Mrs. Parker was hardly cold!"

This put a new idea into Sally's head, and the whole household was
startled as she broke out singing, "the loss of one is the gain of
another," and so forth. Mrs. Perkins proposed that she should be shut
up, but Miss Grundy, for once in Sally's favor, declared "she'd fight,
before such a thing should be done;" whereupon Mrs. Perkins lamented
that the house had now "no head," wondering how poor Mr. Parker would
get along with "such an unmanageable crew."

Numerous were the ways with which the widow sought to comfort the
widower, assuring him "that she ached for him clear to her heart's
core! and I know how to pity you, too," said she, "for when my
Hezekiah died I thought I couldn't stand it." Then by way of
administering further consolation, she added that "the _wust_ was to
come, for only them that had tried it knew how lonesome it was to live
on day after day, and night after night, week in and week out, without
any husband or wife."

Mr. Parker probably appreciated her kindness, for when after the
funeral the following day she announced her intention of walking home,
he ordered Mike to "tackle up," and carry her. This was hardly in
accordance with the widow's wishes, and when all was in readiness, she
declared that she was afraid to ride after Mike's driving. Uncle Peter
was then proposed as a substitute, but the old man had such a dread of
Mrs. Perkins, who Sal (for mischief) had said was in love with him,
that at the first intimation he climbed up the scuttle hole, where an
hour afterwards he was discovered peeping cautiously out to see if the
coast was clear. Mr. Parker was thus compelled to go himself, Miss
Grundy sending after him the very Christian-like wish that "she hoped
he'd tip over and break the widow's neck!"

CHAPTER XXII.

EDUCATION FINISHED.

Vacation was over, and again in the halls of Mount Holyoke was heard
the tread of many feet, and the sound of youthful voices, as one by
one the pupils came back to their accustomed places. For a time Mary
was undecided whether to return or not, for much as she desired an
education, she could not help feeling de