a short visit. But the only frequent visitor was old Uncle
Dan, and he came whenever he could, and always seemed sorry to go home.

CHAPTER FOUR.

BABY.

A very quiet life was led by Avice and Bertha. The house work was done
by the two in the early morning--cleaning, washing, baking, churning,
and brewing, as they were severally needed; and in the afternoon they
sat down to their work, enlivened either by singing or conversation.
Sometimes both were silent, and when that was the case, unknown to
Avice, Bertha was generally watching her features, and trying to read
their meaning. At length, one evening after a long silence, she
suddenly broke the stillness with a blunt question.

"Aunt, I wish you would tell me what you are thinking of when you look
so."

"How do I look, Bertha?"

"As if you were looking at something which nobody could see but
yourself. Sometimes it seems to be something pretty, and sometimes
something shocking; but oftener than either, something just a little
sad, and yet as if there were pleasantness about it. I don't know
exactly how to describe it."

"That will do. When a woman comes to fifty years, little Bertha, there
are plenty of things in the past of her life, which nobody can see who
did not go through them with her. And often those who did so cannot see
them. That will leave a scar upon one which makes not a scratch upon
another."

"But of what were you thinking, Aunt, if I may know?"

"That thou mayest. I fancy, when thou spakest, I was thinking--as I
very often do--about my little Lady."

"Now, if Aunt Avice is _very_ good," said Bertha insinuatingly, and with
brightened eyes, "that means a story."

Aunt Avice smiled. "Ay, thou shalt have thy story. Only let us be sure
first that all is done which need be. Cast a few more chips on the
fire, and light another pine-torch; that is burnt nigh out. And see thy
bodkin on the floor--careless child!"

Bertha jumped up and obeyed. From one corner of the room, where lay a
heap of neatly-cut faggots, she brought a handful, and threw it into the
wide fire-place, which stretched across half one side of the room, and
had no grate, the fire burning on the stone hearth: then from a pile of
long pointed stakes of pitch pine, she brought one, lighted it, and set
it in an iron frame by the fire-place made for that purpose; and lastly,
she picked up from the brick floor an article of iron, about a foot in
length, and nearly as