a.

The gruel was swallowed, Mrs. Lyman and the baby were both asleep, and
the nurse had taken out her knitting, when she heard some one step into
the south entry.

"I wonder who that is," thought Siller; "it's my private opinion it's
somebody come to see the new baby."

She knew it was not one of the family, for the older children had all
gone to school and taken their dinners, and the two little ones were
spending the day at their aunt Hannah's. Now it was really no particular
business of Siller Noonin's who was at the door. Squire Lyman was in the
"fore room," and Betsey Gould, "the help," in the kitchen. Siller was
not needed to attend to callers; but when she was "out nursing" she
always liked to know what was going on in every part of the house, and
was often seen wandering about with her knitting in her hands.

As she stole softly out of the bedroom now, not to waken Mrs. Lyman, she
heard Mr. Bosworth talking to Squire Lyman, and was just in time to
catch the words,--

"The poor General! The doctors couldn't do nothing for him, and he
died."

"Not _our_ General?" cried Siller, dropping her knitting-work.

"Yes, George Washington," replied the visitor, solemnly.

Siller leaned back against the open door, too much excited to notice how
the cold air was rushing into the house. "General Washington! When did
he die? and what was the matter of him?" gasped she. "Speak low; I
wouldn't have Mrs. Lyman get hold of it for the world!"

"He died a Saturday night, the fourteenth of last month, of something
like the croup, as near as I can make out," said Mr. Bosworth.

Squire Lyman shook his head sorrowfully, and put another stick of wood
on the fire.

"Mrs. Noonin," said he, "will you have the goodness to shut that door?"

Siller shut the door, and walked to the fire with her apron at her eyes.
"O dear, O dear, how quick the news has come! Only a little over a
fortnight! Here it is a Wednesday. Where was I a Saturday night a
fortnight ago? O, a settin' up with old Mrs. Gould, and little did I
think--Why, I never was so beat! _Do_ you suppose the Britishers will
come over and go to fighting us again? There never was such a man as
General Washington! What _shall_ we do without him?"

Siller's voice was pitched very high, but she herself supposed she was
speaking just above her breath. Mr. Bosworth stamped his snowy boots on
the husk mat, and was just taking out his silk handkerchief, when
Siller, who knew what