er set over me like that old
maid Smith. I ain't going to be turned out of my own house."

They drove along the road slowly, and presently the ever-interesting
subject of crops engaged their further attention. When they turned
into William Haydon's side yard a pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman,
in a neat black dress and a big clean white apron, sat on the piazza
with Marilla and the children. Israel Haydon's heart felt lighter than
it had for many a week. He went and shook hands with Maria Durrant,
with more than interest and approval; there was even a touch of
something like gallantry in his manner. William Haydon glanced at his
wife and gave an unconscious sigh of relief.

The next morning Miss Durrant helped with the early work, talking with
William's wife as she went to and fro busily in the large kitchen, and
listening to all that could be said of the desperate state of affairs
at the old farm. The two women so doubled their diligence by working
together that it was still early in the day when Maria, blushing
noticeably, said that she thought there was no use in waiting until
afternoon, as old Mr. Haydon had directed. There must be plenty to do;
and the sooner the house was put to rights and some cooking got under
way the better. She had her old calico dress all on, and she deemed it
best to go over and go right to work.

"There! I don't know what to say, Maria," said Marilla Haydon
doubtfully. "Father Haydon's such a set person."

"So be I," rejoined Maria. "And who knows how bad those rooms need
airing! I've thought of twenty things that ought to be done right off,
before night. Or I could work a spell in the gardin if he don't seem
to want me in the house. Now, wa'n't it affectin' to hear him let on
that he'd gone an' made poor Mis' Haydon's flower gardin same's he'd
always done? It showed real feelin', didn't it? I am goin' to take
holt over there as if 't was for her as well as for him. That time I
was here so long, when you was so sick, I did just admire Mis' Haydon.
She was a beautiful-looking woman, and so pretty-behaved; quiet, but
observin'. I never saw a man age as William's father has; it made my
heart ache when I first caught sight of him driving into the yard last
night."

"He revived up conversin' with you an' makin' such a good hearty tea,"
suggested Marilla, disappearing in the pantry. "I ain't never felt
free with father Haydon, but I do respect him," she added presently.
"Well, now, go righ