le Lyddy and
'Phemie Bray "visited" with the Widow Harrison. She was a tall, gaunt,
sad woman--quite "spry," as Lucas had said; but she was evidently troubled
about her future.

Her poor sticks of furniture could not bring any great sum at the auction,
which was slated for the next Monday. She admitted to the Bray girls that
she expected the money raised would all have to go to the mortgagee.

"I _did_ 'spect I'd be 'lowed to live here in Bob's place till I died,"
she sighed. "Bob was hard to git along with. I paid dear for my home, I
did. And now it's goin' to be took away from me."

"And you have no relatives, Mrs. Harrison? Nobody whose home you would
be welcome in?" asked Lyddy, thoughtfully.

"Not a soul belongin' to me," declared Mrs. Harrison. "An' I wouldn't ask
charity of nobody--give me my way."

"You think you could work yet?" ventured Lyddy.

"Why, bless ye! I've gone out washin' an' scrubbin' when I could. But
folks on this ridge ain't able to have much help. Still, them I've worked
for will give me a good word. No _young_ woman can ekal me, I'm proud to
say. I was brought up to work, I was, an' I ain't never got rusty."

Lyddy looked at 'Phemie with shining eyes. At first the younger sister
didn't comprehend what Lyddy was driving at. But suddenly a light flooded
her mind.

"Goody! that's just the thing!" cried 'Phemie, clasping her hands.

"What might ye be meanin'?" demanded the puzzled Mrs. Harrison, looking
at the girls alternately.

"You are just the person we want, Mrs. Harrison," Lyddy declared, "and we
are just the persons _you_ want. It is a mutual need, and for once the two
needs have come together."

"I don't make out what ye mean, child," returned the old woman.

"Why, you want work and a home. We need somebody to help us, and we
have plenty of space so that you can have a nice big room to yourself
at Hillcrest, and I _know_ we shall get along famously. Do, _do_, Mrs.
Harrison! Let's try it!"

A blush rose slowly into the old woman's face. Her eyes shone with sudden
unshed tears as she continued to look at Lyddy.

"You don't know what you're saying, child!" she finally declared, hoarsely.

"Yes, dear Mrs. Harrison! We need you--and perhaps you need us."

"Need ye!" The stern New England nature of the woman could not break up
easily. Her face worked as she simply repeated the words, in a tone that
brought a choking feeling into 'Phemie's throat: "_Need ye!_"

But Lyddy went o