eased with me for doing what I think right. I promise
you, however, for papa's sake and for Nat's, that if I ever need help I
will ask it of you, and not of any one else.'

* * * * *

"The next time I saw Mr. Maynard he put both his hands on my shoulders and
said: 'You are a brave girl; I wish I could forgive you; but remember your
promise.' And that was the last word Mr. Maynard spoke to me for three
years.

"Our new home was so much pleasanter than we supposed it could be, that at
first, in spite of our grief, both Nat and I were almost gay. It was like
a sort of picnic, or playing at housekeeping. The rooms were sunny and
cozy. Rich people in splendid houses do not dream how pleasant poor
people's little rooms can be, if the sun shines in and there are a few
pretty things. We kept all the books which could ever be of use to Nat,
and a picture of the Sistine Madonna which Mr. Maynard had given us on the
last Christmas Day, and papa's and mamma's portraits. The books, and
these, made our little sitting-room look like home. We had only two rooms
on the first floor; one of these was a tiny one, but it held our little
cooking-stove and a cupboard, with our few dishes; the other we called
'sitting-room;' it had to be dear Nat's bedroom also, because he could not
be carried up and down stairs. But I made a chintz curtain, which shut off
his bed from sight, and really made the room look prettier, for I put it
across a corner and had a shelf put up above it, on which Nat's stuffed
owl sat. My room was over Nat's, and a cord went up from his bed to a
bell over mine, so that he could call me at any moment if he wanted
anything in the night. Then we had one more little chamber, in which we
kept the boxes of papa's sermons, and some trunks of old clothes, and
things which nobody wanted to buy at the auction, and papa's big chair and
writing-table. We would not sell those. I thought perhaps some day we
should have a house of our own--I could not imagine how; but if we did we
should be glad of that chair and table, and so Aunt Abby let us keep them,
though they were of handsome wood, beautifully carved, and would have
brought a good deal of money. For these four rooms we paid Miss Penstock
three dollars a month; the rent would have been a dollar a week, but she
said it was really worth a dollar a month to her to have people who would
not trouble her nor hurt the house; and as Aunt Abby thought so too