e legs like a big spider, an' mind you, all the three others
was hangin' on to him already like leeches, an' Jake, he looks 'round
kind o' helpless like, an' he says to the matron, 'There ain't any more
belongin' to this family, is there?' says he. 'Cause you might as well
trot 'em out.' But the matron she laughs, an' says that was all, and
were we sure we could adopt so many. Jake says, 'I dunno, I'm sure,'
says he, 'but it seems as if they'd adopted us, and we can't help
ourselves.' That set everybody laughin', 'stead o' cryin', an' we
picked up them four orphants an' brought them home last night, an' here
we are."

She stopped, and looked around anxiously at the circle of neighbors.
"I know it was awful of us to do it. But I hope you won't mind, will
you? We jist couldn't help it."

"Well, yen's true, Hannah," exclaimed old Miss McQuarry emphatically.
"It was jist the Lord's wull, wumman."

Every one looked at Mrs. Winters for her verdict.

"It's a pity to part flesh and blood, that's a fact," she admitted
reluctantly. "But how you an' Jake is ever goin' to tame down them
four wild things is more'n I can tell."

"You send them to school," said the Duke of Wellington, as she arose to
start for that institution herself, "and I'll answer for them the
biggest part of the day."

Mrs. Sawyer's face lightened. "Indeed we will, jist as soon as we can
get them to settle down a bit. An' Jake says the boys'll help him in
the mill, an' the girls'll help me in the house, an' we'll get along
somehow."

"Well," said Mrs. Munn, rising, and forestalling any further
discussion, "there's no use talkin' about things, anyhow; that does
more harm than good."

The company arose and drifted toward the door.

"D'ye think they'll be awful hard to bring up, Harriet?" whispered Mrs.
Sawyer tremulously, detaining the doctor's landlady for a moment behind
the others.

Mrs. Munn looked steadily into Hannah Sawyer's kindly eyes. These two
had been stanch friends since the days when they had sat together in
school and shared dinner-pails. Only to this old comrade did Harriet
Munn's reticent tongue speak out the deep thoughts of her heart. She
laid her hand on Mrs. Sawyer's shoulder.

"It's jist the Lord's hand that's led you, Hannah," she said quietly,
"that's what it is, and you don't need to be afraid o' nothin'."

Hannah Sawyer's homely face grew radiant. "That's jist what the
minister said last night!" she exclaimed.