was still dark, and a blustering, boisterous day.

"Aunt Jane told me she should get up at half past six and have
breakfast at half past seven," she thought; "but I daresay they are
both sick with their colds, and aunt Miranda will be fidgety with so
many in the house. I believe I'll creep down and start things for a
surprise."

She put on a wadded wrapper and slippers and stole quietly down the
tabooed front stairs, carefully closed the kitchen door behind her so
that no noise should waken the rest of the household, busied herself
for a half hour with the early morning routine she knew so well, and
then went back to her room to dress before calling the children.

Contrary to expectation, Miss Jane, who the evening before felt better
than Miranda, grew worse in the night, and was wholly unable to leave
her bed in the morning. Miranda grumbled without ceasing during the
progress of her hasty toilet, blaming everybody in the universe for the
afflictions she had borne and was to bear during the day; she even
castigated the Missionary Board that had sent the Burches to Syria, and
gave it as her unbiased opinion that those who went to foreign lands
for the purpose of saving heathen should stay there and save 'em, and
not go gallivantin' all over the earth with a passel o' children,
visitin' folks that didn't want 'em and never asked 'em.

Jane lay anxiously and restlessly in bed with a feverish headache,
wondering how her sister could manage without her.

Miranda walked stiffly through the dining-room, tying a shawl over her
head to keep the draughts away, intending to start the breakfast fire
and then call Rebecca down, set her to work, and tell her, meanwhile, a
few plain facts concerning the proper way of representing the family at
a missionary meeting.

She opened the kitchen door and stared vaguely about her, wondering
whether she had strayed into the wrong house by mistake.

The shades were up, and there was a roaring fire in the stove; the
teakettle was singing and bubbling as it sent out a cloud of steam, and
pushed over its capacious nose was a half sheet of note paper with
"Compliments of Rebecca" scrawled on it. The coffee pot was scalding,
the coffee was measured out in a bowl, and broken eggshells for the
settling process were standing near. The cold potatoes and corned beef
were in the wooden tray, and "Regards of Rebecca" stuck on the chopping
knife. The brown loaf was out, the white loaf was out, the t