-not but what they are good enough," correcting
herself hastily.

"Go into your mother's room, softly," said Hepsey, rubbing her fingers
against her thumb--her habit when she was in a tranquil frame of mind.

"_You_ are mighty glad, Hepsey," said Temperance.

"Locke Morgeson ought to have a son," she replied, "to leave his money
to."

"I vow," answered Temperance, "girls are thought nothing of in this
'ligous section; they may go to the poor house, as long as the sons
have plenty."

An uncommon fit or shyness seized me, mixed with a feeling of dread,
as I crept into the room where mother was. My eyes first fell upon
an elderly woman, who wore a long, wide, black apron, whose strings
girded the middle of her cushion-like form. She was taking snuff. It
was the widow Mehitable Allen, a lady whom I had often seen in other
houses on similar occasions.

"Shoo," she whispered nasally.

I was arrested, but turned my eyes toward mother; hers were closed.
Presently she murmured, "Thank God," opened them, and saw me. A smile
lighted her pale countenance. "Cassy, my darling, kiss me. I am glad
it is not a woman." As I returned her kiss her glance dropped on a
small bunch by her side, which Mehitable took and deftly unrolled,
informing me as she did so that it was a "Rouser."

Aunt Mercy came the next day. She had not paid us a visit in a long
time, being confined at home with the care of her father, Grandfather
Warren. She took charge of Veronica and me, if taking charge means
a series of guerilla skirmishes on both sides. I soon discovered,
however, that she was prone to laughter, and that I could provoke
it; we got on better after that discovery; but Veronica, disdaining
artifice, was very cross with her. Aunt Mercy had a spark of fun in
her composition, which was not quite crushed out by her religious
education. She frequented the church oftener than mother, sang more
hymns, attended all the anniversary celebrations, but she had no
dreams, no enthusiasm. Her religion had leveled all needs and all
aspirations. What the day brought forth answered her. She inspired me
with a secret pity; for I knew she carried in her bosom the knowledge
that she was an old maid.

Before mother left her room Veronica was taken ill, and was not
convalescent till spring. Delicacy of constitution the doctor called
her disorder. She had no strength, no appetite, and looked more elfish
than ever. She would not stay in bed, and could not sit u