tle brother.

Love, the only sister, and the eldest of the family, was almost as
soothing and affectionate to Willy as Mrs. Parlin herself. She was tall,
fair, and slender, like a lily, and you could hardly believe it possible
that she would ever grow to be such a very large woman as her mother,
or that Mrs. Parlin had once been thin and delicate, like Love.

There was another, besides these two, who petted Willy; and that was
"Liddy," the housemaid. Lydia was a Quaker woman, and every "First Day"
and "Fifth Day"--that is, Sunday and Thursday--she went off to a
meeting, which was held over the river, three miles away, in a yellow
"meeting-house" without any steeple. It was not always convenient to
spare Lydia on "Fifth Day," for, Mr. Parlin kept a country hotel, or, as
it was called in those days, a "tavern," and there was plenty of work to
be done; but no matter how much company came, "Liddy" would leave her
pies half rolled out on the board, or her goose half stuffed, and walk
off to the Quaker settlement to meeting. But when she came back, she
went steadily to work again, and was such a good, honest, pious woman,
that nobody thought of finding any fault with her.

She was all the "regular help" Mrs. Parlin had; but Mrs. Knowles did the
washing, and often Siller Noonin came in to help Lydia with an extra
baking.

Caleb Cushing--or, as the country people called him, "Kellup"--was the
man of all work, who took care of the sheep and cattle, and must always
be ready to "put up" the horses of any traveller who happened to stop at
the house.

Mr. and Mrs. Parlin, the four children, and Caleb and Lydia, made up the
household, with the addition of great shaggy Fowler, the dog, and
speckled Molly, the cat, with double fore-paws.

Grandfather Cheever, with his hair done up in a queue, came sometimes
from Boston, and made a long visit; but you could hardly say he belonged
to the family.

Now, my story is to be about Willy, and I would like to describe him;
but how can I, when I have heard such various accounts of the child? I
suppose, if you had questioned the family about him, you would have
heard a different story from every one. His father would have shaken his
head, and said, Willy was a "singular child; there was no _regulation_
to him." Seth would have told you he was "impudent." Stephen would have
called him "a cry-baby," and Caleb, "the laziest little chap he ever
came across;" though "grandf'ther Cheever" though