hat was it, love?" inquired Mother Hubbard, who had been aroused by
my screams and was genuinely alarmed.

"I don't quite know," I replied; "but I think the turkey was
quarrelsome and could not quite hit it with the plum pudding."

Mother Hubbard composed herself to sleep again; and in order to prevent
a repetition of my unhappy experience I got my books and proceeded to
do my accounts.

I have not been idle by any means during these months, and my balance
is quite satisfactory. I have painted quite a number of miniatures,
and have prepared and sold several floral designs for book covers and
decorative purposes. I see plainly that I am not likely to starve if
health is vouchsafed to me, and I was never more contented in my life.
I wonder, though, what it really is that makes me so. It cannot be
sufficiency of work merely, for that was never lacking in the London
days; and as for friends, I have, besides Mother Hubbard, only Farmer
Goodenough and the squire, and he is away and likely to be for months.
I think it is the sense of "aliveness" that makes me happy. Some folk
would call my life mere existence, but I feel as if I never really
lived until now; and I hanker after neither theatres, nor whist-drives,
nor picture-shows, nor parties.

Parties! Why, we have parties in Windyridge, and the motherkin and I
went to one that evening. We put on our best bibs and tuckers--not our
very best, but I wore my blue voile with the oriental trimmings which
even Rose used to admit set off my figure to advantage, and Mother
Hubbard donned the famous black satin, and added to its glories the
soft Shetland shawl which I had given her that morning.

Tea was prepared in the spacious kitchen, which had room enough and to
spare for the fifteen people of all ages who were assembled there. It
is a kitchen lifted bodily out of a story book, without one single
alteration. The room is low, so that Farmer Goodenough touches the
beams quite easily when he raises his hand, and his head only just
clears the hams which are suspended from them; and it is panelled all
the way round in oak. There are oak doors, oak cupboards, oak settles
and tables, and an oak dresser, all with the polish of old age upon
them and with much quaint carving; all of which is calculated to drive
a connoisseur to covetousness and mental arithmetic. An immense fire
roared up the great chimney, and its flames were reflected in the
polished case of the mahogany gr