en she grew older, she understood all this, and
tried to be like a daughter to the friend who had been so kind to her.
Her aunt's queer little ways only made her feel, then, that it was for
her she had learned to save even the shreds she cut off when she was
sewing. After the orphan girl was grown, she was married to a very kind
gentleman. This gentleman was so grateful to the aunt for her care of
the orphan, that he wanted her to come and live with them in her
comfortable home; but Aunt Barbara said--"

"There, there, Mother! you have let it out," exclaimed the children in a
breath.

"Don't, don't," said Hatty; "what did Aunt Barbara say, Mother?"

"She said, your old aunty is queer and notional, and maybe you would be
happier without her. No, no, let me stay here alone; I shall be quite
contented to know my little orphan is so well taken care of! It was of
no use urging Aunt Barbara, so we had to let her have her way. Now, my
children, you know how Aunt Barbara got her very economical ways, and I
hope you will have patience with her, for my sake."

"Indeed, I will!" said Hatty, looking up with her eyes full of tears.

"I won't tease her any more," said Meg, nestling at her mother's side.

Marcus was silent; he felt too deeply to speak, how ill a return he had
made to Aunt Barbara for her kindness to his mother.

"But how came Aunt Barbara here?" asked Hatty, with much interest.

"I will tell you," said Mrs. Lee. "We had been married three years, when
I had a little, helpless, sickly baby. I was too feeble to take proper
care of it, and your father was obliged to be too much away from home to
give me any help. Aunt Barbara heard how weak and pale I was looking,
and what a poor, suffering baby I had. Then the old lady let her little
home to a stranger, and came one day to us. She said she could not
sleep for thinking of me and the little one, and she had come to take
care of us. And what good care she took of us! She seemed to know just
what I wanted. I was young, then, and there were many things about which
I was as ignorant as you are. Aunt Barbara had nourishing food made for
me just when I needed it, she took the care of the housekeeping from me,
and so nursed me that I soon began to feel strong again. But I have not
told you about the poor baby. Aunt Barbara could not do too much for
that baby. It was a cross little thing, crying even when it was not
sick. Aunt Barbara was never out of patience with it. She