don't want it in the way,
and it will be in the way."

"Don't you think they will come to-night, mamma?" said Matilda.

"I don't know, I am sure. I know no more than you do. How can I tell?
Only don't ask me any more questions."

"Would you have tea yet, mamma?" said Letitia.

"There's a question, now! I tell you, don't ask me. Just when you like."

"There's no train due for a good while, mamma; they _couldn't_ come for
two or three hours. I think we had better have tea."

So she went off to prepare it, just as Matilda who had put her face
outside of the window curtain, proclaimed that somebody was coming to
the door.

"Only one person though, mamma. Mamma! it's Miss Redwood--Mr.
Richmond's Miss Redwood."

"It wanted but that!" Mrs. Englefield exclaimed, with a sort of
resigned despair. "Let her in, Matilda. I locked the door."

The person who followed Matilda to the sitting-room was a slim woman,
in black costume, neither new nor fashionable. Indeed, it had no such
pretensions; for the fashion at that time was for small bonnets, but
Miss Redwood's shadowed her face with a reminiscence of the
coal-scuttle shapes, once worn many years before. The face under the
bonnet was thin and sharp-featured; yet a certain delicate softness of
skin saved it from being harsh; there was even a little peachy bloom on
the cheeks. The eyes were soft and keen at once; at least there was no
want of benevolence in them, while their glance was swift and shrewd
enough, and full of business activity.

"Miss Redwood, how do you do? I am glad to see you. Do sit down," was
Mrs. Englefield's salutation, made without rising.

"How do you do, Mis' Englefield? Why--seems as if you was expectin'
folks here?"

"Just what we are doing; and it is some of the hardest work one can do."

"Depends on who you expect, seems to me. And I guess 'tain't harder
work than what I've been doing to-day. I've been makin' soap. Got it
done, too. And 'tain't to do agin till this time next year comes round."

"Can you make enough at once for the whole year? I cannot."

"'Spects you use a passel, don't ye?"

"Of course--in so large a family. But you're a great hand for soap,
Miss Redwood, if folks say true?"

"Cellar ain't never out of it," said Miss Redwood, shaking her head.
"It's strong, mine is; that's where it is. You see I've my own leach
sot up, and there's lots o' ashes; the minister, he likes to burn wood,
and I like it, for it gives me my ley