the mill and'--"

"Oh, now, you aren't so bad as all that. You look as smart as a spring
robin--you do look wonderful well, Mis' Dobson. Now, what can I do for
you?"

"There's a lot of things to look after, Abilonia, now that you--that
you--that--"

"Yes, I know there are, and I'll just delight to take hold and do them.
I told Mr. Dobson that I wanted to begin to do for you both right away.
I'm real glad you thought--of it, Mis' Dobson, for I've nobody else,
now, to care for, and I should love to take care of poor Mr. Dobson and
try to make him happy--just real happy--the best of anybody in the
world. He looked so pleased when I told him so."

"Did he? He did!"

"Yes, his face just lighted up when I told him that we all knew how
faithful he'd been to his trust through such a long, hard siege, how
kind and patient, and that it would be a privilege to try to make it up
to him a little."

"Oh--ah--well, what did he say to that?"

"He just said the hand of the Lord had fallen rather heavy on him, but
he'd tried to bear the burden the best he could, and if he held out to
the end the Lord would reward him. And he said it was the Lord's mercy
to give him such a good, clever wife to take care of--since she was
sickly. Now, would you like me to bake you some cookies this morning, or
do the mending?"

"I don't know. Did Andrew say that? Well, he has been faithful. You're
goin' to git an awful good man, Abilonia. Say, don't you tell him, or
it'll scare him, but I'm goin' to do a terrible resky thing. I'm goin'
to set up here in the bed a little spell. Go you up to the top bureau
drawer in the spare room and git my black shawl. I know I might fall
over dead, but I'm goin' to take the resk."

"Why, Mis' Dobson, it isn't safe!"

"Safe or not, I'm goin' to do it. I'm goin' to set up a spell. I never
stop for consequences to myself when I set out to do a thing."

The perilous feat was accomplished without tragedy. After she had had a
nap, propped up in the bed, Mrs. Dobson's soul rose to greater heights
of daring, when Abilonia remarked that Mrs. Dobson's plum-colored silk
was the very thing for a lining to her own silk quilt, and as it would
not be worn again she might as well take it over and make it up. She was
adding that she would like to have a crayon portrait made of Mr. Dobson
to hang beside that of his wife which adorned the parlor in ante-mortem
state, when Marthy interrupted: "Abilonia, go you and git me a dres