?"

"Not in the least. What can I do for you?"

"I would like to send some of that currant jelly I made yesterday to old
Mrs. Riggs, if you are sure you would like to take it?"

"As sure as sure can be, dear," said Evadne with a kiss, "Where shall I
find it?"

"In the King's corner."

"'The King's corner?'" echoed Evadne with a puzzled look.

"Oh, I forgot you did not know. I always give the Lord the first fruits
of my cooking, and keep them in a special place set apart for his use,
then, when I go to see the sick, there is always something ready to
tempt their fancy. It is wonderful what a saving of time it is. I rarely
have to make anything on purpose,--there is always something prepared."

She followed her niece out to the carriage, helped her pack the jelly
safely, with one of her crisp loaves of fresh brown bread, bade her a
merry farewell and went back to the house again singing.

"Oh, Aunt Marthe!" cried Evadne, as she drove slowly under the trees,
"shall I ever, ever learn to be like you?"

She found the old lady sitting by the fire wrapped up in a shawl,
although the day was sultry.

"Good-morning," said Evadne, as she deposited her parcels on the table.
"I come from Mrs. Everidge. She thought you would fancy some of her
fresh brown bread and currant jelly."

"Hum!" said the old lady ungraciously, "I hope it's better than the last
wuz. Guess Mis' Everidge ain't ez pertickler ez she used ter be."

"Aunt Marthe!" cried Evadne indignantly. "Why, everything she does is
perfection!"

"Land, child! There ain't no perfecshun in this world. It's all a wale,
a wale o' tears. We'se poor, miserable critters,--wurms o' the
dust,--that's what we be."

"There isn't any worm about Aunt Marthe," cried Evadne with a laugh. "I
think you must be looking through a wrong pair of spectacles, Mrs.
Riggs."

"Land, child! I ain't got but the one pair, an' they got broke this
morning. But it's jest my luck. Everything goes agin me."

"But you can get them mended," said Evadne.

"Sakes alive! There ain't much hope o' gettin' them mended, with Penel
behindhand on the rent, an' the firin' an' the land knows what else. I
don't see why Penel ain't more forehanded. I tell her ef I wuz ez young
an' ez spry ez she be, I guess I'd hev things different, but, la! that's
Penel's way. She's terrible sot in her own way, Penel is. She's not
willin' ter take my advice. Children now-a-days allers duz know more
than their mothers."