usily outside. Frances Freeland, glancing through the window, saw them
unlatching the wicket gate. Sudden alarm seized her. She put out her
head and called. Biddy came back.

"You mustn't spend them all at once."

Biddy shook her head.

"No. Once we had a shillin', and we were sick. We're goin' to spend
three pennies out of one shillin' every day, till they're gone."

"And aren't you going to put any by for a rainy day?"

"No."

Frances Freeland did not know what to answer. Dear little things!

The dear little things vanished.

In Tod's and Kirsteen's room she found a little table and a pillow, and
something that might do, and having devised a contrivance by which
this went into that and that into this and nothing whatever showed,
she conveyed the whole very quietly up near dear Derek's room, and told
darling Nedda to go down-stairs and look for something that she knew
she would not find, for she could not think at the moment of any better
excuse. When the child had gone, she popped this here, and popped that
there. And there she was! And she felt better. It was no use whatever to
make a fuss about that aspect of nursing which was not quite nice. One
just put the best face upon it, quietly did what was necessary, and
pretended that it was not there. Kirsteen had not seen to things quite
as she should have. But then dear Kirsteen was so clever.

Her attitude, indeed, to that blue bird, who had alighted now twenty-one
years ago in the Freeland nest, had always, after the first few shocks,
been duly stoical. For, however her fastidiousness might jib at neglect
of the forms of things, she was the last woman not to appreciate really
sterling qualities. Though it was a pity dear Kirsteen did expose her
neck and arms so that they had got quite brown, a pity that she never
went to church and had brought up the dear children not to go, and to
have ideas that were not quite right about 'the Land,' still she was
emphatically a lady, and devoted to dear Tod, and very good. And her
features were so regular, and she had such a good color, and was so slim
and straight in the back, that she was always a pleasure to look at. And
if she was not quite so practical as she might have been, that was not
everything; and she would never get stout, as there was every danger of
Clara doing. So that from the first she had always put a good face on
her. Derek's voice interrupted her thoughts:

"I'm awfully thirsty, Granny."

"Yes, dar