have me call you uncle?"

Something in him protested. He could not tell what it was, unless an odd
feeling that it made him seem older. He wished he were ten years
younger, and he could give no reason for that either.

"I think I like the 'cousin' best;" after some deliberation.

"And it is so lovely to be dear to some one, very dear. I like Rachel,
she's been almost a mother to me, and I like Cousin Eunice for her sweet
ways. But I've no one of my very own, and so--I'm very glad to be dear
to you. It is like a ship being anchored to something safe and strong."

She came and put her arms about his neck and kissed him. He drew her
down on his knee. She was her mother's child, and her mother had been
dear to him, his first love, his only love so far.

Oh, how would the garden get made and the house cleaned, the blankets
and the winter clothing aired and put away, those in use washed? Eunice
and Miss Winn went up in the garret one day and swept and dusted, not
giving a whole week to it.

"Now," said Mother Taft, "I'm going to take a holiday off. I'm tired of
puttering round in the sick room, and she's so much better now that she
doesn't keep one on the jump. And I'm going to wash them there blankets
and you can pack them away, so there'll be one thing less to worry
about."

"But Silas' wife would come and do it. And a holiday! Why don't you go
off somewhere----"

"I want to do it."

And do it she did. Some way the house did get cleaned. "After a
fashion," Elizabeth said. And the garden was made. Chilian and Eunice
trimmed up roses. Cynthia and Miss Winn planted seeds. There were always
some things that wintered over--sweet Williams, lilies of various sorts,
pinks, laurels, some spiraeas, snowball and syringas, hosts of lilacs
that made a fragrant hedge. Cynthia thought it had never been so lovely
before. She wore a nosegay at her throat, and in her belt just a few;
she had the fine taste that never overloaded. She and Cousin Chilian
used to walk up and down the fragrant paths after supper and no one
fretted at them about the dew. Sometimes Rachel or Eunice would bring
out a dainty scarf. And how many things they found to talk about. She
loved to dwell on the times with her father, and it seemed as if she
remembered a great deal more about her mother than she did at first, but
she never imagined it was Cousin Chilian's memory that helped out hers.

She had enjoyed the school very much. There were no high up "ism