nding; and, two nights a week, brushes up
and goes a-courting. And he's only a year older than I am! I shall never
go a-courting. "Poor'us," "Poor'us." Who would want a "poor'us?"

In a few weeks, Elinor will come home for good. Her father's relations
have done well by her, and would be glad to keep her always. People say
she has bad great advantages, and Hope she will not be spoiled; but that
can't be. She was always good, and always will be.

* * * * *

_May 5._--'T was just about such a day as this, ten years ago, that Aunt
Bethiah came out into the porch, and found me leaning up against the
meal-chest. Daddy had just brought me home. He wasn't blind then, though
he wore a green shade. How scared I was at Aunt Bethiah!--she looked so
tall, and dark, and--hard, like Greatheart's wife, if he ever had one.
It doesn't seem possible that she can be mammy's own sister.

Daddy said, "Mammy, suppose we keep him?" And she made answer, that
mebby I might save poor Freddy some steps. Then Aunt Bethiah said, "More
men folks, more work," and that Frederic knew how to save his own steps.
But I stayed, for daddy's mind was made up beforehand, and daddy always
has his will, though it is in a gentle way.

Elinor was a little girl then. She sat down with me in the window-seat,
and showed me her new primer, and whispered softly that Aunt Bethiah
would like me, if I wiped my feet.

Poor mammy! How long she has been sick! She sits in the same chair and
in the same corner that she did the night I was brought. Some women
wouldn't think of anybody but themselves; but she has a care over the
whole neighborhood. She's always steeping up herbs or spreading plasters
for somebody. Should like to know how many weight of Burgundy pitch and
Dr. Oliver's salve I've run to the doctor's for. I remember how I
coughed that first night.

"What a dreadful cough that poor child's got!" said she. "Elinor, reach
me the bellows, and hold the blade o' the knife to the fire, and warm it
warm. He must have a plaster between his shoulders."

So she laid the bellows across her lap, and spread a plaster, and told
me not to tear it off as soon as it began to tickle me, but to rub my
back against the door. And there were doors enough, I thought, set round
that big kitchen. Nine poor boys, with dreadful coughs, could have found
room.

I remember how we used to climb up to the easterly room door, which had
squares of glass set i