SERENA and SAMANTHA 
 
 ROSA KELLEN HALLETT
 
 ., OF C1LIP. LIBRARY, LOS
 
 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 BEING A CHRONICLE OF EVENTS 
 AT THE TORBOLTON HOME 
 
 BY 
 ROSA KELLEN HALLETT 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 
 1912
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1912 
 SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MY BELOVED MOTHER 
 
 ROSETTA MESERVEY KELLEN 
 
 WHOSE UNFAILING INTEREST 
 
 IN SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 WAS THE SWEETEST OF TRIBUTES 
 
 2136169
 
 The author wishes to acknowledge 
 her indebtedness to the editors of 
 The Youth's Companion for their 
 kind permission to reprint the chap- 
 ters of this book.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 I THE RAYS or The Rising Sun . . 1 
 
 II THE BIRTHDAY . . . . . . 12 
 
 III THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS ... 23 
 
 IV MRS. DODD RISES EARLY ... 34 
 V MRS. DODD'S TREASURE .... 44 
 
 VI THE SCARLET CHINA CRAPE SHAWL 52 
 
 VII MRS. DODD'S BANDBOX .... 62 
 
 VIII THE FIRE WAGON . ... . . 71 
 
 IX THE DAYS FOR OLD GLORY . . .80 
 
 X THE INVITATION 86 
 
 XI THE NIGHT BEFORE THE FOURTH . 97 
 
 XII THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE . . . 106 
 
 XIII THE MAPLE SUGAR CAKES . . .118 
 
 XIV MRS. DODD'S TEN-CENT PIECE . . 127 
 XV THE PATCHWORK KITTEN . . . 136 
 
 XVI THE TORCHLIGHT PARADE . > . 146 
 
 XVII MRS. DODD'S COLLECTING DAY . . 155 
 
 XVIII THE CHRISTMAS BLESSING . . 166
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE RAYS OF THE RISING SUN 
 
 IT was New Year's Day at "The Torbolton 
 Home for Indigent Females," sunshine and azure 
 skies without, but within, gloom and dejection. 
 In the spacious southwest front corner room of 
 the second story, little Mrs. Samantha Wells was 
 dabbing wet blue eyes with a moist handkerchief, 
 while her roommate, Mrs. Serena Dodd, sniffed 
 tempestuously. 
 
 Presently a rustle of skirts sounded from .the 
 corridor, the door was pushed open, and Miss 
 Lydia Barron, Mrs. Dodd's "Niece Lyddy from 
 over to Holt," a tall, pink-cheeked young woman 
 of thirty, was inquiring: 
 
 "Why, why, what is the matter?" 
 
 "They've stopped the paper on us, Lyddy," 
 gulped Mrs. Dodd. "The morning paper, The 
 Rising Sun, that Miss Timpkins, our matron, 
 says has shed its glorious and enlightening rays 
 over this Home and the inhabitants thereof ever 
 since it was started. This is how it was: When 
 Mr. Horace Wimbles " 
 
 "Who's he?" asked Miss Barron, and- little 
 Mrs. Wells exclaimed, wonderingly : 
 
 "O me ! O my ! I persumed everyone through- 
 out the len'th and breadth of the land knew the
 
 2 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 Wimbleses and Wombleses! Why, the very first 
 setback I had from my Absalom was about them ! 
 'Twas six months and nine days after we was 
 united in matrimony, and my wedding shoes was 
 nigh worn to the ground, and I hinted to Absa- 
 lom would he give me a couple of York shillings 
 to have 'em tapped, and he said, he was a mite 
 fractious, and I sensed to oncet I hadn't ought 
 to 've spoke afore breakfast, 'We ain't no Wim- 
 bleses or Wombleses, Samanthy !' But I spunked 
 up, and says I, 'Massy no ! If we was, I'd want 
 new shoes and not old ones cobbled up/ And 
 Absalom, he kind of grinned, and after he'd et 
 eleven hot Injun-meal johnny-cakes well covered 
 with best Forty Reeky molasses, he presented me 
 with the two York shillings." Mrs. Wells smiled 
 happily. 
 
 "We were discussing Mr. Horace Wimbles, Sa- 
 manthy," replied Mrs. Dodd, in lofty rebuke, 
 "His great-great-great-grandpa was in the 
 Founder's boat " 
 
 "Beg pardon, aunty," interrupted Miss Bar- 
 ron. "I'm secretary of the Pioneers' League, 
 and I can reel off that passenger-list forwards 
 and backwards. There wasn't a Wimbles 
 aboard." 
 
 "For pity's sake, Lyddy Barren !" cried Mrs. 
 Dodd. "Can't a body have two grandpas and 
 one of 'em not a Wimbles? And four great- 
 grandpas and three of them not Wimbleses? 
 And eight great-great-grandpas and seven of
 
 RAYS OF THE RISING SUN 3 
 
 them not Wimbleses? And " under her breath 
 "twice eight's sixteen sixteen three great- 
 grandpas, and fifteen of them not Wimbleses? 
 And 'twas one of them fifteen that was 'What 
 Cheered' at along with Roger Williams, and 'twas 
 this one's only daughter that married the first 
 Horace Wimbles." Mrs. Dodd's black eyes 
 sparkled. "Got that, Lyddy?" And as Miss 
 Barren nodded meekly, her aunt proceeded: 
 
 "And her being the one surviving offspring, 
 Mr. Horace Wimbles, first, got all his pa-in-law's 
 possessions, the acres and acres 'twixt the twin 
 rivers and three-quarters of King Philip's Bay 
 Islands, and they descended and descended to pos- 
 terity till they fetched up with Mr. Horace Wim- 
 bles, fifth, and his only sister, Damaris Penelope, 
 and then in popped Mr. Jesse Wombles and cap- 
 tured Damaris Penelope. So that made the Wim- 
 bleses and Wombleses, and though Mr. Horace 
 Wimbles, fifth, was the last Simon Poor Wimbles 
 there was, Torbolton folks got so in the habit of 
 saying, 'Wimbleses and Wombleses,' zif they was 
 roast pork and apple sass and mustn't be sepa- 
 rated, that there is them that continner on even 
 unto this day !" 
 
 "Ain't you going to tell Lyddy," urged plump 
 Miss Sally Sloane, who had slipped in, unnoticed, 
 "how Mr. Horace Wimbles, fifth, being a 1 stout 
 single gentleman, 'thout any incumbrances, and 
 wearing a cocked hat and his hair tied up in a 
 queue with a silk ribbon to the day of his death
 
 4. SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 lived all by his lonesome in this very house that 
 Mr. Horace Wimbles, fourth, built right here on 
 the tippest top of Quinton Hill? And ain't you 
 going to tell," Miss Sloane's voice shrilled in her 
 excitement, "how Mr. Horace Wimbles, fifth, told 
 my pa his own self that them two statoos out on 
 his gateposts, Polly and Minnie Nervy, used to 
 get down and dance The Highland Fling about 
 the garden every time they heerd the Old First 
 bells ring out midnight? And ain't you going to 
 tell" 
 
 "I am if you 'low me the chancet," affirmed 
 Mrs. Dodd, severely, "and leave me anything to 
 tell." She turned an indignant shoulder to Miss 
 Sloane and resumed, "When Mr. Horace Wim- 
 bles, fifth, demised, ninety-odd years ago, he 
 willed this nice big brick building to us for our 
 Home, and all the rest of his property to the city 
 to have and to hold and to administer with due 
 economy. And that same due economy is the 
 lion's tail dangling kind of keerless-like out of 
 the cage that every passer-by just admires to 
 yank occasional. For if the city don't look out, 
 back it may whisk to the Wombleses, who've got 
 more'n a plenty already, still owning Damaris 
 Penelope's po'tion, one-half all them acres and 
 acres 'twixt the twin rivers, and one-half them 
 three-quarters of King Philip's Bay Islands, not 
 to mention an entire Adirondack forest that come 
 in by way of our Mr. Wombles's ma, and is how 
 he was christened Diedrich."
 
 RAYS OF THE RISING SUN 5 
 
 "Mr. Diedrich Wombles," broke in Mrs. Deme- 
 ter Ford, who, with bashful Mrs. Prendergast, 
 had just trundled old Mrs. Farwell into the cir- 
 cle, "belonged to my church. He sat right on a 
 line with me, though he was on the broad aisle 
 and me in a side free pew, and 'twas a real up- 
 lifting sight every Sunday morning to view him 
 haul out a gold piece from his pocket, and if he'd 
 been absent, two or three or sometimes four, and 
 slide 'em over the aidge of the alms-basin so mod- 
 est you couldn't hear 'em chink no more'n if 
 they'd been dimes or nickels !" 
 
 "And I can bear further testimony," declared 
 little Mrs. Wells, eagerly. "For after my Ab- 
 salom give up the sea and took to teaming in 
 Torbolton, he carted all Mr. Diedrich Wombles's 
 wood, great logs for the dozen open fireplaces, 
 all the kindling for the kitchen stove and the 
 chunks to go under the wash-b'iler. Cords on 
 cords of it altogether, and Mr. Wombles, he never 
 disputed a bill ! That's what my Absalom said he 
 called a man !" 
 
 "Exactly," agreed Mrs. Dodd. "And there 
 ain't been the slightest bit of an intimation that 
 Mr. Wombles ain't perfectly satisfied with things 
 as they be. Howsomever, the city has stopped 
 the paper just the same." 
 
 "What's the city got to do with it?" demanded 
 Miss Barron, impatiently. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd stared at her niece in surprise. 
 "Why-ee! Ain't I told you that yet? It's the
 
 6 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 city that subscribes to the morning paper for us 
 out of them hundreds of thousands Mr. Horace 
 Wimbles, fifth, left to be administered with due 
 economy. But every year after the report of the 
 Wimbles' bequest trustees is published, some 
 nateral-born mischief-makers write to the paper, 
 faulting that item: 
 
 " 'The Rising Sun for the Home for Indigent 
 Females, eight dollars.' 
 
 "What'd that first letter this year say, Sa- 
 manthy ?" 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells piped up, promptly, " 'Why 
 should the tranquil and serene pilgrimage of the 
 venerable wards of the Torbolton Home for In- 
 digent Females gliding swiftly down the shadowy 
 vale of time, be j'opardized by information about 
 Californy airthquakes or Alabamy tornadoes, or 
 have their tender feelings wrung by furrin tele- 
 grams about them as have pounded their fingers 
 a-nailing the Stars and Stripes to the north pole? 
 No, a million times, no !' said he. 'How infinitely 
 pre-ferrible a soothing volume of the "Specta- 
 tor." He'd got one, he said, he'd sell cheap." 
 
 "That," snorted Mrs. Dodd, "was the chip- 
 munk in the chestnut-bag! Two words for 
 'Loyal Citizen,' that's him, and one for us ! 
 'Twas the next one madded me most. 'Mr. Vokes 
 Pop-you-lie.* He said we ladies wouldn't know 
 an English budget from an American black bear 
 if the pair of 'em crawled up our front path on 
 their knees and pawses and pulled our front door
 
 RAYS OF THE RISING SUN 7 
 
 bell and hollered, 'How fare ye, ladies?' right 
 at us." 
 
 "I would," quavered old Mrs. Farwell. "I 
 come from Maine, and down there in my grand- 
 pa's woodlot up in the 'Roostook them black bears 
 was thick as spatters, a-cramming theirselves to 
 the brim with red ripe luscious rosb'ries." 
 
 "There!" triumphed Mrs. Dodd. "I knew a 
 critter with a name like that couldn't tell the 
 truth! And neither of them even cast one little 
 sheep's eye at the next item below, 'The Rising 
 Sun for the Home for Indigent Males, eight dol- 
 lars.' 
 
 "Furthermore and to boot, likewise, the city 
 ain't shut it off on them neither, for Miss Timp- 
 kins telephoned straight over, and the manager 
 himself answered, pretty considerable uppity, 
 'No, sir-ree, bob ! Not by a long chalk !' ' : 
 
 Mrs. Dodd halted, a grim expression on her 
 face ; and bashful Mrs. Prendergast, dropping 
 the handle-bar of old Mrs. Farwell's wheeled 
 chair, gasped: 
 
 "But -but they're men ! And of course we 
 ladies can't ever 'spect to be catered to like we 
 was the superior sect. Man is always ahead of 
 woman, and my husband, Daniel Webster Pren- 
 dergast he was selectman forty years down to 
 Scatterwitzick he said, the sooner ladies come to 
 a realizing understanding that they couldn't 
 never ketch up, the cheerfuller and more con- 
 tenteder they'd be. And and "
 
 8 
 
 She shrank back before the chilling gaze of her 
 auditors, and Mrs. Dodd groaned sepulchrally, 
 then remarked, in controlled accents: 
 
 "The Wombleses, Lyddy, being a sort of high 
 connections of ours, we take a parlous interest in 
 'em and peruse the paper faithful in hopes to 
 note all their doings, and I calc'late we don't miss 
 much. Why, I s'pose Samanthy and me recol- 
 lect the color of Mrs. Wombles's honeymoon bun- 
 nit strings better'n she doos herself. They was 
 a bee-yutiful shell-pink, the pree-cise shade of the 
 inside of them two big conches my Uncle Darius 
 McGay lugged home to me from Afric's burning 
 sands." 
 
 "Oh, no!" protested little Mrs. Wells, mildly. 
 "Them was her sister Orella's, she that wedded 
 the Duke of Marmalade. Mrs. Wombles's bunnit 
 strings was Nile green. Don't you 'member, Se- 
 reny, they was pinned together with an elegant 
 Brazilian bug that matched to a T?" 
 
 "H'm'm!" grunted Mrs. Dodd. "Well, I ain't 
 argying! Anyhow, Lyddy, the oldest Miss 
 Wombles debutted last year in a grand new ball- 
 room erected a-puppus ! There was Goblin mys- 
 teries hanging all around it, and it had a tossel- 
 plated floor and a mahogany cornish inlaid with 
 pearls, and stained-glass windows that Betty 
 Macdonald and Nora O'Hara they stood out- 
 side watching till after 'leven o'clock said 
 'peared just like slices off the rainbows of Para- 
 dise.
 
 RAYS OF THE RISING SUN 9 
 
 "And The Rising Sun had a whole page about 
 the hahnsome gowns and the oceans of hot house 
 posies and everything there was for supper sal- 
 ids and jellies and patty defoy grass. We ain't 
 never tasted that kind of grass, but if it's any- 
 where near as dee-licious as sparrow-grass we 
 have that for dinner at least twicet in the sea- 
 son " Mrs. Dodd smacked her lips reminiscently 
 "it must be extry superexcellent !" 
 
 "And next week," burst forth little Mrs. Wells, 
 "the oldest Miss Wombles is to be married, and 
 ain't it turrible they've picked out this partic'lar 
 time to stop our paper? Though having had all 
 them warnings," she sighed deeply, "we'd ought 
 to been prepared." 
 
 "What makes you think it has been stopped?" 
 questioned Miss Barren. 
 
 " 'Cause it didn't come," rejoined Mrs. Wells. 
 "You see, when the boy got to the gate this morn- 
 ing, I was waiting at the stairhead, and with my 
 own two ears I heard him say to Betty Macdon- 
 ald, she was brushing off the porch 'There 
 ain't any paper for you !' " 
 
 Miss Barren knitted her brows. "It's very 
 strange," she commented. "It would have been 
 more courteous to notify you by mail." 
 
 "They did," said Mrs. Wells. "I told you 
 'twas the paper boy. Girls ain't let to carry 
 papers in Torbolton ; and he was curchus enough. 
 But facts is facts. He didn't leave us any paper. 
 O me! O my! I wish my nephew Peter Rawdon
 
 10 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 was here. He'd go right down town and investi- 
 gate." 
 
 Miss Barron started up. "Dear me, Mrs. 
 Wells, I can do that!" But little Mrs. Wells 
 shook her head dolefully. 
 
 "I wouldn't bother, Lyddy. You ain't a man, 
 you know. Now if my nephew, Peter Rawdon " 
 
 Miss Lydia Barren's heels were, however, al- 
 ready clicking on the oak stairway, as the little 
 woman concluded: 
 
 "Was only here ! Oh, I wish, wish, wish, wish, 
 wish !" 
 
 And somewhere it has been stated that if 
 one only wishes hard enough the wish will come 
 true; and certain it is that an hour later Peter 
 Rawdon did march in, and scarcely had he crossed 
 the threshold before the ad story was poured 
 forth, and he was averring: 
 
 "Bless my heart ! This is all wrong ! I'll step 
 down and attend to it." 
 
 "You won't need to, Mr. Rawdon," announced 
 Miss Barron, jubilantly, from the doorway. 
 " 'Twas all a mistake. That young scamp of a 
 newsboy was short one paper, and was too lazy 
 to go back for another. That was all there was 
 to it. And they advised about those letters to 
 take them whence they came. And here's a copy 
 of this morning's issue they sent to you." She 
 thrust the crackling sheet, pleasantly redolent of 
 printer's ink, into Mrs. Wells's small fist. "Good- 
 by, I must run for my train."
 
 RAYS OF THE RISING SUN 11 
 
 Ten minutes more, and Mr. Peter Rawdon had 
 also departed; and as the assembled company 
 munched blissfully upon his offering of marsh- 
 mallows, Mrs. Dodd said, somewhat indistinctly: 
 
 "Samanthy Wells, you turn to that society 
 colyum, and read out about that kitchen shower 
 the oldest Miss Wombles was to be treated to yes- 
 terday! Don't you skip a kettle!" 
 
 It was still New Year's Day at "The Torbolton 
 Home for Indigent Females," sunshine and azure 
 skies without, and within, sunshine and happy 
 hearts ; for once more The Rising Sun was shed- 
 ding its glorious and enlightening rays over the 
 Home and the inhabitants thereof.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 THE BIRTHDAY 
 
 MID-JANUAIIY, the weather still continuing fair, 
 and afternoon at the Home. All was very quiet 
 about the great building except in the matron's 
 room, where little Mrs. Wells was chattering, 
 excitedly : 
 
 "O me! O my! But I've had such a piece of 
 work eluding Sereny Dodd! More'n ha'f an 
 hour ago I turned down her coverlet for her 
 nap, but lie down she wouldn't. Just sat stiff's 
 a ramrod in her big Boston rocker, those black 
 eyes of hers buttoned wide open zif she meant 
 not to close a lash for forty year! But she 
 couldn't keep it up, and now she's dozed off, all 
 niddy-nodding ; and here be I!" 
 
 She giggled delightedly; and Miss Timpkins, 
 coiling up her hair before the mirror, smiled 
 back at the reflection of the little woman. "Yes?" 
 she said, encouragingly. 
 
 "I've been hoping and praying," went on Mrs. 
 Wells, "that my nephew, Peter Rawdon he's not 
 my reaji nephew, you know, but was in my Sun- 
 day-school class back in '54, and always claims 
 me for his aunty would happen in, and the good 
 Lord sent him yesterday, lugging a box of pep- 
 permints. And when I said to the dear boy, 
 
 12
 
 THE BIRTHDAY 13 
 
 'Peppermints are excellent, but a leetle cash, 
 Peter ' he just roared, and fished down into his 
 pockets and gave me this." She held up to view 
 a shining coin. "And I want you should get 
 Sereny Dodd a present from me. 'Twill be a sur- 
 prise!" Mrs. Wells bounced joyfully on the 
 chair on which she was perched, her little feet 
 dangling. "She doesn't know I've got a penny ! 
 To-morrow's her birthday mine, too. We're 
 just of an age, seventy -nine years since we entered 
 this vale of woe !" 
 
 "Seventy-nine!" exclaimed the kindly matron. 
 "Why, I wouldn't guess that by nine years." 
 
 Mrs. Wells's face broke into gleeful radiance. 
 "That's what Sereny tells me," she declared, 
 "and that's what I tell Sereny. I could take off 
 five years more without stretching the stocking 
 a mite, if only Sereny hadn't stouted up so fright- 
 ful." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Timpkins, accepting the 
 proffered coin, "what shall I buy?" 
 
 "Soap!" affirmed Mrs. Wells. "It's my one de- 
 sire, Samanthy,' Sereny often says to me, 'that 
 when I'm taken I'll be taken clean.' And I guess 
 she will, she's a powerful scrubber. You get 
 vi'let soap, that's my f&vor-ite." 
 
 She slipped from the chair. "There, ' that's 
 off my mind!" And much pleased, Mrs. Wells 
 tripped away. 
 
 Five minutes later, following a rap at the door, 
 Mrs. Dodd entered, announcing, importantly:
 
 14 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "I've come on business." 
 
 Miss Timpkins glanced toward the clock. "The 
 board's due at three," she demurred. 
 
 "That's all right," asserted Mrs. Dodd, set- 
 tling herself firmly in the chair just vacated by 
 Mrs. Wells. "There won't a one of 'em be here 
 'fore ha'f-past. Howsomever, I wouldn't've been 
 so late if Samanthy Wells hadn't got one of her 
 oneasy spells. She's been wandering hither and 
 yon like a ha'nted sperit; every time I tried to 
 get by, there she'd be a-marching and a-counter- 
 marching. But now Sally Sloane's toled her in, 
 and I've trudged along here." 
 
 "I'd have come to your room," said Miss Timp- 
 kins. 
 
 " 'Twouldn't have done," replied Mrs. Dodd. 
 "She'd have known in a minute something was 
 up. Why only last night, I said, 'Samanthy 
 Wells, if anyone told you they was going to deed 
 you sixteen inches off one of them mudflats we see 
 out in the bay at low tide, 'twouldn't be one toot 
 from Gabriel's horn before you'd have the cellar 
 dug, the walls up, pitch roof on and folks moved 
 in and having a house-warming!' That's Saman- 
 thy things open right up before her." 
 
 Again Miss Timpkins glanced toward the 
 clock. "It's" 
 
 "To be sure!" agreed Mrs. Dodd, cheerily. 
 "And here I be, my tongue going zif 'twas a wind- 
 mill on stilts, galloping two ways to oncet, not 
 giving you the shadow of a shade of a chance to
 
 THE BIRTHDAY 15 
 
 ask, 'Why do ye so?' But I won't wait to be 
 coaxed." She opened her fist and displayed a sil- 
 ver piece in her palm. "That's what my niece 
 Lyddy from over to Holt give me for the mak- 
 ings of a new best cap, but the other one will last 
 a spell longer, and she won't mind if I spend it 
 on Samanthy. It's her birthday to-morrow. It's 
 both our birthdays. We're twins," she stated, 
 unctuously. 
 
 Miss Timpkins, who had been edging toward 
 the door, halted. 
 
 "Twins !" said she, in great amazement. 
 "Twins !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd frowned, then sighed, "Some folks 
 ain't any imagination! It's true as preaching 
 that I was born in Chepiwanoxet, and Samanthy 
 come by the way of Quonochontaug, and we never 
 clapped eyes on each other till that May festival 
 they asked us to the year we was both on the 
 waiting list. But we was born the same year, 
 the same month, the same day of the month, and 
 the same day of the week, twins could do no 
 more !" 
 
 Miss Timpkins laughed. "Well, that's so," 
 said she, taking the money from Mrs. Dodd's 
 hand. "What shall I buy?" 
 
 "Soap!" said Mrs. Dodd. Then noticing the 
 matron's start of astonishment, "Yes, soap. 
 That's what I love nice sweet-smelling soap. 
 When I was married," she went on, "the man 
 Boldwood worked for sent me some for a wedding
 
 16 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 gift. 'Twas rose-colored, rose-scented, and the 
 box was tied round with gold cord. I wish I had 
 it now. But there, I was young, and hadn't a 
 thought for the morrow, and used it reg'lar so 
 long's it lasted. 'Twas so pink and pretty ! 
 'Twas a furriner made it, Boys at Sea. I wonder 
 if you could get some like it." 
 
 "One can but try," responded Miss Timpkins, 
 graciously. 
 
 "That's all," said Mrs. Dodd. She rose from 
 her chair and moved ponderously in the direction 
 of the hall. "Now I guess you'd better stiver. 
 There's at least two autos a-chugging outside 
 this very minute." 
 
 Again it was afternoon, and in their own sunny 
 southwest room, Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. Wells were 
 sitting, surveying the packages strewn about, 
 packages in tissue paper, one tied up with violet 
 ribbon and a tiny bunch of violets tucked in the 
 bow, and one, so "pink and pretty," bound about 
 with gold cord and "Bois et Cie," printed in gold 
 letters along its side. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Dodd spoke in sepulchral 
 tones : 
 
 "Samanthy Wells, I suspicion that Maria 
 Timpkins told!" 
 
 " 'Sh !" Mrs. Wells raised a warning finger. 
 There was a tap at the door, and the next in- 
 stant in walked the matron herself. 
 
 "Well, well, but you've been having a fine birth-
 
 THE BIRTHDAY 17 
 
 day," she congratulated. "Why the bell's been 
 ringing all day with presents for you." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Wells, slowly, "it has." Mrs. 
 Dodd sniffed. 
 
 "H'm!" said she. "H'm! Presents! Such 
 as they be!" She fixed the matron with bright 
 unflinching eyes. "I was pleased as Punch when 
 I got the vi'let soap from Samanthy. It's her 
 favor-ite, if it ain't mine. And Samanthy was 
 tickled most to death with what I gave her, she 
 couldn't help it, it was so pink and pretty. And 
 when Mrs. Orlando Waldron sent soap, I said to 
 Samanthy, 'She's been president of the board 
 many a year, and I do suppose she feels some in- 
 timate. We'll let it pass.' But when the soap 
 came from Mrs. Frater, I'll own I conceited 'twas 
 crowding the mourners. Still she is vice, and 
 she means first-rate, and her husband's in that 
 line. And you can take soap from the bosom of 
 your family, your sister, so to say, and your 
 friend and your friend's friend. But when the 
 whole community stood up and hove soap at us, 
 the attention was too p'inted for Sereny Dodd!" 
 
 She wheeled clumsily about in her chair and 
 gazed out upon the blue waters of King Philip's 
 bay, while Miss Timpkins gasped, in horror: 
 
 "You can't mean they all sent soap!" 
 
 "They did so!" Like a catapult Mrs. Dodd 
 flung back the words ; and Mrs. Wells nodded sol- 
 emn confirmation. 
 
 A hot flush mounted to the matron's temples
 
 18 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 and her voice trembled. "I'm very sorry," she 
 began. 
 
 But Mrs. Wells interrupted. "Sereny ! Se- 
 reny!" she admonished, prodding 1 with vigor 
 her companion's plump ribs. "Stop it, you're 
 hurting her feelings." 
 
 The big Boston "rocker" creaked around, and 
 once more Mrs. Dodd confronted the matron, but 
 this time her rosy old face was full of contrition. 
 
 "For massy sakes !" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't 
 do that for all the world and the little stars 
 served up in a pewter porringer! Would 
 I, Samanthy?" 
 
 "Not if you knew it, Sereny," acquiesced Mrs. 
 Wells, mildly. Then she added with enthusiasm, 
 "And, O Miss Timpkins, she and me have cooked 
 up an elegant scheme!" 
 
 " 'Twas your idee, Samanthy," said Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "But you liked it." 
 
 "I did," concurred Mrs. Dodd, and Miss Timp- 
 kins inquired: 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "It's to have all the ladies in here to spend the 
 evening," explained Mrs. Wells. "To come as 
 soon as they can, and stay as long as you're will- 
 ing. We'd have a splendid time, and before they 
 went, we'd give 'em," she pointed at the array of 
 boxes, "a souvenir of the occasion, the way they 
 do at all the fine parties nowadays." 
 
 "That is really a beautiful plan," agreed Miss 
 Timpkins, "and very kind and generous and "
 
 THE BIRTHDAY 19 
 
 "Sho!" said Mrs. Dodd. "Sho! The ques- 
 tion is, will you let 'em?" 
 
 "I certainly will," replied the matron. 
 
 Then there was prinking! Spotless white 
 aprons were extracted from bureau drawers and 
 tied in stiffly starched puffy bows, best collars 
 were carefully fastened with huge cameo brooches 
 or twisted gold breastpins, and each old lady as- 
 sumed what was formerly the hall-mark of gentil- 
 ity, a tall back comb, some of them "real tortle," 
 and the others a splendid imitation. 
 
 And during the supper-hour Betty Macdonald, 
 the parlor-maid, and Nora O'Hara, the cook, 
 collected the wonted chairs of the inmates and 
 carried them to the room occupied by the hostesses 
 of the evening. 
 
 "For," said Betty Macdonald, gravely, " 'as ye 
 sow, so shall ye reap.' And when I'm doing this, 
 I know I'm storing up comfort for my old age." 
 
 "And if you don't live till then," amended 
 Nora, "you've made for yourself a bed in Heaven." 
 
 Then chirruping as merrily as a bevy of Eng- 
 lish sparrows it takes but little to make the 
 very old as well as the very young happy in 
 trooped the guests, who, after shaking hands in 
 the most dignified manner with Mrs. Dodd and 
 Mrs. Wells, ranged themselves about the room. 
 
 Peter Rawdon's peppermints were at once por- 
 tioned out, and soon all were munching joyfully, 
 listening with keen appreciation to Miss Sally 
 Sloane she had at especial request brought her
 
 20 
 
 accordion as she rendered with spirit, "The 
 Spanish Cavalier," and followed it up with, "How 
 the Waters Came Down at Lodore." 
 
 The last had almost a personal interest, for 
 Miss Sally had once known a man who knew an- 
 other man who really did know the man who made 
 it up. 
 
 Next Mrs. Ford, who had been first soprano in 
 one of Torbolton's churches forty years before, 
 piped in thin sweet old treble, "My own mama, 
 my dear mama," and each one of the audience 
 joined in the refrain: 
 
 "To-morrow night at candle-light, my own mama I'll 
 see !" 
 
 and each of the faded old eyes grew moist, while 
 all felt that Mrs. Dodd expressed the general 
 sentiment as, dabbing- her eyes with her hand- 
 kerchief, she said: 
 
 "We want our mas at eighty just as bad as we 
 did at eight." 
 
 But away with melancholy ! Under Miss Sally 
 Sloane's skillful touch shrilled forth the notes of 
 "Yankee Doodle," and each old foot was soon 
 jigging it or would have been if some had not 
 had to favor lame knees, while Mrs. Dodd kept 
 time with such energy that she almost shook off 
 her "gold bows." 
 
 To crown the festivity, old Mrs. Farwell, nine- 
 ty-one her last birthday, helpless in body but ac-
 
 THE BIRTHDAY 21 
 
 tive in mind, spoke her piece, "The Nightingale 
 and the Glowworm," the piece learned and recited 
 in the log schoolhouse, away down in the District 
 of Maine, more than eighty years before, and 
 urged on by the applause, valiantly began the 
 ballad: 
 
 Young Lindenshield 
 
 On bloody field 
 
 Died with disgrace 
 
 To all his race 
 
 His uncle's name was Granger and he killed 
 him, that's all I know!" 
 
 Perhaps it was just as well, for now the door 
 opened, and in walked Miss Timpkins, beaming 
 as she cried, "Many happy returns of the day, 
 ladies !" 
 
 And there behind her were Betty and Nora, 
 each bearing a tray all set out with cake and ice- 
 cream. 
 
 How good it tasted! And then the extra half 
 hour that had been allowed was over, and it was 
 "Good-night ! Good-night !" and each of the com- 
 pany had departed, hugging to her breast a pack- 
 age, from which emanated a sweet though soapy 
 odor. 
 
 Neither were Betty Macdonald nor Nora 
 O'Hara forgotten ; and, "There's enough to last 
 us the rest of our natural lives. You help your- 
 self, Miss Timpkins," exhorted Mrs. Dodd, while 
 little Mrs. Wells, clasping her small hands in 
 ecstasy, cried :
 
 22 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "O me ! O my ! But isn't it perfectly gee-lorious 
 to be able to make so many folks in the world glad 
 you were born!"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS 
 
 "The wind it doth blow 
 And we shall have snow!" 
 
 IT was two weeks since the birthday celebration ; 
 the unwontedly balmy weather of the early win- 
 ter had given place to dreary skies and biting 
 frosts, and Mrs. Dodd, gazing out upon the leaden 
 clouds driven by a fierce northeaster athwart 
 King Philip's Bay, uttered the prediction 
 gloomily, while Mrs. Wells, sitting opposite her 
 roommate, remarked: 
 
 "Good day to stay put inside builded walls 
 like we do, Sereny." A moment later she leaned 
 forward and stared from the window, exclaim- 
 ing, "For pity's sake, if there ain't your niece 
 Lyddy from over to Holt a-tripping it through 
 the gate!" 
 
 "In the very face and eyes of a blizzard!" 
 groaned Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "Well, Lyddy's young," soothed Mrs. Wells. 
 "I 'spect you did the same thing at her age, Se- 
 reny." 
 
 The front door banged, there were steps on 
 the stairs, and Miss Lydia Barren was greeting, 
 "How do, Mrs. Wells? How do, Aunt Serena?" 
 
 " 'Most froze, ain't you, Lyddy?" questioned 
 33
 
 m SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 Mrs. Dodd. "You'd better hug right up to that 
 radiator." 
 
 "No, thank you, aunty," responded Miss Bar- 
 ron. "It is a little cold, but I don't mind that." 
 She seated herself, and producing a notebook 
 and pencil, explained: 
 
 "I've come after a little information. Every- 
 one out our way is studying genealogy and I've 
 caught the fever. What was my grandma's 
 maiden name, Aunt Serena?" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd stared. "What was your grand- 
 ma's maiden name!" she burst forth. "My 
 sainted ma's maiden name !" 
 
 "Not Grandma McGay," protested Miss Bar- 
 ron. "Wasn't I christened Lydia Graham for 
 her? It's father's mother I'm talking about." 
 
 "Oh! Why she was Thyrzy Willard." 
 
 "I know my grandma's maiden name," piped up 
 little Mrs. Wells, eagerly. "She was a Whitney, 
 Etruria Whitney, and she married my grandsir, 
 Job Rand, he was old Southington Rand's grand- 
 son you ain't forgot about him, Sereny, your 
 Boldwood's ma was a Rand and my ma, Anna 
 Rand, married John Bray, so I was Samanthy 
 Bray, and I married Absalom Wells, and his 
 ma" 
 
 "That's very interesting," broke in Miss Bar- 
 ron, gently but decisively. "Now, Aunt Serena, 
 what was Grandpa McGay's mother's maiden 
 name?" 
 
 "You've got me stumped on that all right,
 
 THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS 25 
 
 Lyddy," chuckled Mrs. Dodd. "But I calculate 
 it's just as my Boldwood used to say, that tain't 
 necessary to know everything in all creation, pro- 
 vided you know where to look for it. And Sereny 
 Dodd, she doos !" 
 
 She wheeled about in her big Boston "rocker," 
 and opening a pink satin-striped box on the top 
 of her bureau, took out a time-yellowed manu- 
 script, declaring: 
 
 "Away back in the fifties, my Grandma McGay, 
 your great-grandma, her first name was Easter, 
 had a bad fall, and whilst she was getting over it, 
 her family took turns amusing her by putting 
 down on paper all she could remember about when 
 she was a little girl, ampersand. Here 'tis!" 
 Mrs. Dodd began: 
 
 " 'In the year 1794? my father received for his 
 services during the Revolutionary War he 
 fought clear through from Bunker Hill to York- 
 town a grant of eight hundred acres in the then 
 District of Maine, one hundred for himself and 
 one hundred apiece for each of his seven boys.' " 
 
 "Where'd the girls come in?" asked little Mrs. 
 Wells, anxiously. 
 
 "Didn't come in at all," retorted Mrs. Dodd. 
 "Neither grandma nor one of her six sisters got 
 an ioty of all them acres! Just a good setting- 
 out when they were married off, feather beds, all 
 the linen and wool they could spin and weave, and 
 a dozen silver teaspoons, but Great-aunt Ke- 
 ziah, who never was married off and consequent
 
 26 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 got no setting-out, lived around among her 
 brothers and brothers-in-law, nussing, washing, 
 mending, tending babies, and not s'posed to earn 
 neither her salt nor her sugar, poor dear cree- 
 tur. I tell you, Lyddy," Mrs. Dodd wagged her 
 curly white head solemnly, "twas parlous tough 
 times for single spinsters in them days !" 
 
 Miss Barron laughed comfortably. "I dare 
 say," she admitted. "But any names, aunty? 
 That's what I'm after." 
 
 " 'My father was Price Llewellyn,' " resumed 
 Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "Price Llewellyn," repeated Miss Barron. Her 
 pencil flew over the page of the notebook. "Then 
 great-grandma was Easter Llewellyn." 
 
 "Naterally !" Mrs. Dodd's tone was somewhat 
 crisp. " 'He married Delindy May ' " 
 
 "Delinda May," interrupted Miss Barron. 
 "Wait a second, aunty, till I get that down." 
 
 But Mrs. Dodd's patience was exhausted. 
 Petulantly she restored the manuscript to the pink 
 satin-striped box, and thrust the latter toward 
 Miss Barron. 
 
 "Here, Lyddy Barron! You take it and keep 
 it till you've picked out all them names you're 
 so ferce about !" 
 
 "Thank you so much, Aunt Serena !" cried her 
 niece. "It's splendid of you to let me have it." 
 And with a gay, "I'll be round again to-morrow 
 morning," Miss Lydia Barron blithely marched 
 forth into the gray day where, to prove Mrs.
 
 THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS 27 
 
 Dodd a true prophet, a few stinging snowflakes 
 were fluttering earthward. 
 
 Soon the storm increased, one could not see 
 across the avenue for its density, and there was 
 raging what Torbolton's old sailor folk call a 
 "living gale," with, according to The Rising Sun, 
 "telephone and telegraph wires down in all di- 
 rections and electric car service thoroughly de- 
 moralized." 
 
 But by midnight, the snow had ceased to fall, 
 the hurricane had blown itself out, and it was a 
 calm white world upon which Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. 
 Wells looked, when, after breakfast, they seated 
 themselves at their respective windows to survey 
 the scene. 
 
 "Not a car running," asserted Mrs. Wells, with 
 fearful joy, "don't believe Lyddy'll be here to- 
 day." But Mrs. Dodd was lifting a warning fin- 
 ger. 
 
 "I hear one afar off," she announced. 
 
 Sure enough, presently, slowly clanging along 
 the rails, came a car, "first one over the route." 
 It halted before the Home, and a tall bundled-up 
 figure alighted and began to plough its way up 
 the broad path, and Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. Wells 
 gasped in chorus: 
 
 "Lyddy Barren !" 
 
 And Mrs. Dodd vaunted, "McGay spunk there 
 all right!" 
 
 Miss Barren was aglow with enthusiasm as she 
 entered the southwest front corner room of the
 
 28 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 Home. "O aunty," she exclaimed. "I stopped 
 at the library yesterday, and hunted through 
 books and books and books, and at last in one 
 of them it said that Price Llewellyn was " 
 she paused impressively. 
 
 "Was what, Lyddy?" faltered Mrs. Dodd. 
 "Maybe you'd best not hunt no further, Lyddy ! 
 Let sleeping dogs lie still if they will, is my motto ; 
 though far's I know, our forebears was respect- 
 able" 
 
 " 'Tisn't that," Miss Barron said, smiling loft- 
 ily. "Dear me ! Any one can be respectable, but 
 we are royal! Price Llewellyn was descended 
 from Edward the First, King of England, Scot- 
 land, Ireland, a part of France and Conqueror of 
 Wales !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd blinked. "Are you sure, Lyddy? 
 There ain't to my knowledge ever been any Ed- 
 wardses in the family ; not but there is awful nice 
 Edwardses, the preacher Jonathan " 
 
 "It wouldn't have been Edwards, anyway," in- 
 terposed Miss Barron. "If we'd been lucky 
 enough to have been in the male line 'twould 
 have been Plantagenet, but as 'tis, we're 
 descended from a daughter, her brother 
 was first Prince of Wales, and her son's 
 daughter's son's daughter married a Llewellyn 
 and emigrated to America. That's all I've 
 found out, but I'm going straight to the 
 library now and I'll keep you posted. Good-by, 
 good-by!"
 
 THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS 29 
 
 As the door closed behind Miss Barron, little 
 Mrs. Wells beamed radiantly. 
 
 "You ain't an idee how tickled I be, Sereny! I 
 never darst to let on before for it seemed zif I 
 must be turrible stuck-up, but my Grandma Bray's 
 great-grandma was a noble English lady, daugh- 
 ter of a noble English earl who ran away with a 
 humble forester of Epworth Heath, and fled over 
 here and learned to milk the cows and churn the 
 butter with her own fair hands." 
 
 "That's fine !" condescended Mrs. Dodd. "Then 
 you and me are sort of on equal terms, though 
 of course my royal grandpa, Edward the first, 
 King of England, Scotland, Ireland, a part of 
 France and Conqueror of Wales, also the father of 
 the first Prince of Wales I'll get Lyddy to track 
 out how near kin I am to this one soon's she can 
 is," complacently, "a cut higher!" 
 
 "But," objected little Mrs. Wells, hurriedly, 
 "you ain't heerd all yet, Sereny ! Grandma 
 Bray's other grandma's pa was Lord High Sheriff 
 of Salisbury Plain or Cathedral Grandma Bray 
 never could recolleck which and he sailed all to 
 oncet with his eight apprentices, eleven children 
 and his true and loving wife, each of 'em with a 
 belt of red gold buckled around their waists." 
 
 "What become of all that red gold?" demanded 
 Mrs. Dodd, excitedly, and little Mrs. Wells, wav- 
 ing her small hands to and fro, answered, "It 
 went, it went ! Here a little and there a little !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd nodded with perfect comprehension.
 
 30 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "Boldwood's folks were just like that, too. Owned 
 the entire shore from Pint Judy to the Pier, and 
 whenever they honed for a fur overcoat or a sum- 
 mer at Saratogy, off they'd sell a slice of the 
 water-front, till behold, the whole cake was et up 
 and not a crumb left for my Boldwood!" 
 
 "After me, the deluge !" remarked Mrs. Wells. 
 "Still things always might be worser. For in- 
 stance, I ain't never had a chance to discourse 
 free about my noble ancestors before. Absa- 
 lom's topnotchest was only Town Sergeant of 
 Hartford, and if I mentioned just real keerless- 
 like about my noble lady grandma or my grandpa, 
 Lord High Sheriff of Salisbury Plain or Cathe- 
 dral Grandma Bray never could recolleck which 
 he'd grit his teeth and glare out of the win- 
 dow, even if the blinds were shut and the curtains 
 pulled clean down to the sill. My poor Absalom ! 
 That was the one and only unkind thing he ever 
 done !" 
 
 But Mrs. Dodd, surveying her rosy old counte- 
 nance in the mirror, was murmuring, rapturously, 
 "My royal grandpa ! Edward the First, King of 
 England, Scotland, Ireland, a part of France 
 and Conqueror of Wales, also father of the first 
 Prince of Wales! Guess I'll coax Lyddy to 
 seek out the old gentleman's picter. 'Twould be 
 some pleasing if it turned out I favored him!" 
 
 "So 'twould," agreed Mrs. Wells, and in sweet 
 converse upon the congenial topic, the next few 
 hours passed quickly.
 
 THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS 31 
 
 It was four o'clock in the afternoon when a 
 message was brought that someone wished to see 
 Mrs. Wells in the lower hall. Presently the little 
 woman returned, carrying a basket, and at her 
 heels, Betty Macdonald, proclaiming : 
 "Special delivery for Mrs. Dodd!" 
 As the maid retired, Mrs. Dodd said, gayly, 
 "It's from Lyddy! Like enough she's unairthed 
 another batch of peers and peeresses !" She tore 
 open the envelope and read aloud: 
 
 "DEAR AUNT SERENA: It seems upon further in- 
 vestigation that there were two Price Llewellyns, 
 both alive at the same time in the same township, and 
 both very nearly the same age, one marrying Belinda 
 May, the other Hannah Unknown. The Price 
 Llewellyn who was descended from Edward the First, 
 King of England, Scotland, Ireland, a part of France 
 and Conqueror of Wales " 
 
 Mrs. Dodd rolled the titles upon her tongue. 
 
 "Being also, as perhaps you may recall, the father 
 of the first Prince of Wales, was not " 
 
 "N-o-t," spelled Mrs. Dodd, perplexedly. 
 
 "Was not our grandfather, Price Llewellyn, who 
 married Belinda May, but the other one who married 
 Hannah Unknown " 
 
 For a long moment Mrs. Dodd eyed the letter 
 incredulously ; then, throwing it down, she mut- 
 tered, in wrathful accents:
 
 32 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "I don't care! I don't care a leather button! 
 Samanthy ! Samanthy !" She addressed her com- 
 panion. "The balloon's bust! Squashed like a 
 puff-ball ! And Sereny Dodd's of noble blood no 
 more !" 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells gazed back at her roommate 
 from mournful soft blue eyes. 
 
 "Neither am I, Sereny," she dolorously affirmed. 
 " 'Twas my nephew, Peter Rawdon, wanted me 
 downstairs. He fetched me these Sheldon pears 
 said they was just in their prime now and I 
 up and bragged a mite, just a teeny-weeny mite, 
 Sereny, about my noble ancestors. And Peter, 
 he said, just as affable, as affable, but firm, that if 
 he was me, he wouldn't bank any on it, that noble 
 ladies never, never run away with humble foresters 
 of Epworth Heath, that it must have been a fairy 
 tale that Grandma Bray was relating, only I was 
 too little to realize. 
 
 "And as for the Lord High Sheriff of Salis- 
 bury Plain or Cathedral Grandma Bray never 
 could recolleck which Peter Rawdon," Mrs. Wells 
 enunciated very slowly and with quivering lips, 
 "he said he had his doubts!" The little wo- 
 man sighed. "I tell you what, Sereny Dodd, I'm 
 going to miss my noble lady grandma and my 
 grandpa, Lord High Sheriff of Salisbury Plain 
 or Cathedral Grandma Bray never could recol- 
 leck which after cherishing them in secret all 
 these years !" 
 
 "And me, my royal grandpa, Edward the First,
 
 THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS 33 
 
 King of England, Scotland, Ireland, a part of 
 France and Conqueror of Wales !" lamented Mrs. 
 Dodd. "Howsomever, I didn't have him long 
 enough to get so awful much attached to him, 
 and as the proverb is, 'There's no great loss 'thout 
 some small gain.' And though we've lost an 
 earl, a lord high sheriff and a king betwixt us, 
 still you've gained a whole basketful of fruit 
 half a peck, I calc'late, 'cording to its looks, and 
 you know what's printed on our calendar for to- 
 day: 
 
 Kind hearts are more than coronets. 
 
 Let's prove it ! S'posen you spunk up, Samanthy, 
 and step out and invite in the other ladies and 
 treat us all around to a Sheldon pear!"
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 MRS. DODD RISES EARLY 
 
 THE dawn of a cold February morning was ap- 
 proaching, and the snow glittered palely on Tor- 
 bolton's seven hills under the rays of the waning 
 moon. King Philip's Bay was frozen from shore 
 to shore, save where a dark streak of water indi- 
 cated the channel kept open for the bay craft by 
 a bumptious little tug that snorted importantly 
 to and fro every hour. Upon Quinton Hill the 
 milk wagons had begun their rounds. One halted 
 at the Home gate, and the driver, springing out, 
 dashed around the path, set down the wire rack of 
 bottles and scurried back to his horses shouting, 
 "Giddap! giddap!" 
 
 The stentorian adjuration floated up through 
 the open windows of the southwest front corner 
 room of the Home and Mrs. Serena Dodd stirred, 
 opened her black eyes sleepily, yawned and dozed 
 off again. Soon there were cautious tiptoeings 
 along the corridor and the lower part of the house 
 began to waken into life. Nora O'Hara clattered 
 the covers of the kitchen range, Betty Macdonald 
 vigorously whirled the handle of the coffee-mill, 
 and the college boy, who "tends the furnace," 
 stamped the snow from his boots on the outside 
 
 porch. A moment later he had marched down 
 
 34
 
 MRS. DODD RISES EARLY 35 
 
 the cellar stairs and was crashing wide the drafts 
 of the heater, and once more Mrs. Dodd was 
 aroused from her slumbers. She sniffed the keen 
 air disapprovingly, and peering over the edge of 
 the bedclothes at her roommate peacefully sleep- 
 ing in her little white cot, scolded under her 
 breath : 
 
 "Ought by rights to make Samanthy Wells 
 get up and shut them windows ! Massy knows 
 'tain't me that's honing for all the fresh air that's 
 going. Howsomever," relentingly, "my Boldwood 
 always said, 'O sleep, thou art a sacred thing!' 
 And I guess " She crept from between the 
 sheets and shivering across the floor quietly low- 
 ered the windows, and hastening back to bed, snug- 
 gled down under the blankets to await the warm- 
 ing of the room of which the punkety-punk of the 
 radiators an innovation since Mr. Horace Wim- 
 bles's time was giving liberal promise. 
 
 At length the grandfather's clock on the land- 
 ing, the clock, above whose dial limned in gold 
 upon a sky of azure were the sun, the moon, the 
 planets, and most of the lesser constellations, 
 chimed melodiously, "One, two, three, four! One, 
 two, three, four !" and Mrs. Dodd murmured : 
 
 "Half past six ! It's warm's toast now. Mebbe," 
 joyously, "Sereny Dodd'll have time to lay-out her 
 African if she gets up immejiate." So saying, 
 she stepped out upon the rug at her bedside. 
 
 She moved slowly and another quarter sounded 
 while she was dressing, and as she completed the
 
 36 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 making of her bed by patting her pillow into place, 
 the fourth quarter rang out followed by the strik- 
 ing of seven o'clock. Then the Japanese gong in 
 the lower hall pealed loudly under the manipula- 
 tion of the capable hands of the matron, and little 
 Mrs. Wells's soft blue eyes flew wide to regard 
 Mrs. Dodd amazedly. 
 
 "O me ! O my !" she exclaimed, "Ain't you aw- 
 ful smart rising it up while it is yet night, the 
 way you must have to be all clothed and in your 
 right mind like that. But, Sereny," as her 
 gaze fell on Mrs. Dodd's bed all made up, "Miss 
 Timpkins won't like it worth one copper cent 
 your making up your bed 'thout airing it longer !" 
 
 "Don't approve of it myself in a general way, 
 Samanthy," acknowledged Mrs. Dodd, "but," 
 with dignity, "this morning's diffrunt. There's 
 good and excellent reasons. And," a trace of 
 acerbity in her tones, "if Miss Maria Timpkins 
 ain't informed by no one " 
 
 "She won't be informed by me," protested Mrs. 
 Wells, "if that's what you're hinting at, Sereny !" 
 
 "Well, I s'pose not, Samanthy," admitted Mrs. 
 Dodd, "but the fact is I calc'late to lay out my 
 stripes afore breakfast! You know I bound off 
 the last one yesterday so my African is finished 
 complete all but sewing it together and crochet- 
 ing a scalloped aidge along both ends and I'm 
 going to taykle that to-day." 
 
 Knitting was Mrs. Dodd's favorite occupation, 
 and when, "away back in the fall," Mrs. Orlando
 
 MRS. DODD RISES EARLY 37 
 
 Waldron, the president of the board of managers, 
 had asked, "Wouldn't you like to knit me an af- 
 ghan?" Mrs. Dodd had answered with fervor: 
 
 " 'Deed and 'deed and double 'deed would I, 
 ma'am ! Only," pleadingly, "don't send me none 
 of them fady art-and-stick-to-it colors! They 
 ain't no thing of beauty nor joy forever to Sereny 
 Dodd. She," with conviction, "deespises 'em!" 
 
 And the gay-hued rolls that Mrs. Dodd now pro- 
 duced from the bureau drawer and spread out one 
 by one on the white counterpane showed that Mrs. 
 Waldron had respected Mrs. Dodd's taste in the 
 matter. 
 
 She surveyed the seven stripes laid out before 
 her and affirmed, happily, "Sereny Dodd doos just 
 love that scarlet and canary yellow and salmon 
 pink and the orange, and though," hesitatingly, 
 "the blue and the green and the purple wouldn't 
 never been her real ch'ice, I s'pose they ain't to 
 be sneezed at!" 
 
 "They're all elegant," exulted little Mrs. Wells 
 who had slipped from her white cot and was hur- 
 riedly scrambling into her clothes, "and you're 
 going to let me help you harmonize 'em, ain't you, 
 Sereny? And I'll thread all the needles for you, 
 worsted 'em, I 'spect I ought to say," she gig- 
 gled, "can't I, Sereny? For that won't prevent 
 your claiming you done every individooal stitch 
 with your own ten fingers and thumbs!" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd nodded smiling acquiescence, and 
 presently, the Japanese gong again reverberating
 
 38 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 through the house, the two women trudged down 
 the stairs. 
 
 "Somehow or 'nother," asserted Mrs. Dodd, 
 reflectively, as she languidly put one pudgy foot 
 before the other, "seem zif I felt turrible logy 
 to-day !" 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells contemplated the speaker, 
 then remarked: 
 
 "I'm kind of half impressed myself, Sereny, 
 that mebbe you're putting on flesh. Don't you 
 think," she hazarded, "that p'raps you're eating 
 a leetle, just a leetle too much? You might begin 
 by leaving off something each day. F'rinstance, 
 it's baked apple and cream morning. You might 
 eat the apple 'thout the cream." 
 
 "I might," concurred Mrs. Dodd, "to be sure, 
 I might, but," she swung around the newel post 
 on the first floor and started eagerly for the din- 
 ing-room, "I guess I won't begin to-day." 
 
 It was evening, and at the striking of the hour 
 of nine, Mrs. Dodd avowed, wearily: 
 
 "What 'twixt harmonizing all them colors and 
 the opinions of everybody in all creation, Sereny 
 Dodd's tired 'most to death and will retire instan- 
 ter." 
 
 "So'll I, Sereny," agreed Mrs. Wells, and five 
 minutes after, being a nimble little body, she was 
 settled in her bed, interestedly watching her room- 
 mate's more deliberate movements. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd took off her cap and laid it on the 
 bureau, and unpinning her breastpin, thrust it into
 
 MRS. DODD RISES EARLY 39 
 
 the cushion. Removing the counterpane, she 
 folded it and placed it on a chair, turned down 
 blankets and sheet and reached under her pillow 
 for her nightdress. It was not there. She lifted 
 the pillow and felt vaguely over the surface be- 
 neath it, but in vain. 
 
 "Where's my nightgown?" she questioned, be- 
 wilderedly. 
 
 "Why, I don't know," answered Mrs. Wells. 
 "Isn't it under your pillow?" 
 
 "No, and if you've taken it for a joke " fumed 
 Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "Of course I haven't. I guess you made it up 
 in your bed this morning." 
 
 "Oh, so I might." Mrs. Dodd stripped down 
 the clothes from the couch, but the missing article 
 did not appear. 
 
 "Look under the mattress," suggested Mrs. 
 Wells. "Don't you remember the day you turned 
 your petticoat under the mattress?" 
 
 "I didn't turn it at all to-day. I was in such 
 a hurry," confessed Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 She began to spread up the clothes and Mrs. 
 Wells sprang out of bed, saying, "Let me take one 
 side. It doesn't seem, Sereny," she smiled, "zif 
 you got ahead much making this up 'fore break- 
 fast." 
 
 The rules of the house were, "Lights out and 
 inmates in bed at nine-thirty." It was now ten 
 minutes later, and Miss Timpkins stood at the 
 door.
 
 40 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "What's the matter?" she asked. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd did not speak, but Mrs. Wells, who 
 had jumped into bed again, explained, "She's lost 
 her nightgown!" 
 
 "Nonsense," cheerfully responded Miss Timp- 
 kins, "you couldn't lose your nightgown in one 
 room like this." She picked up the pillow, looked 
 under it and into it, and with vigorous hand 
 stripped the bed, saying, "You've made it up in 
 the bed." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd parted her lips, but Mrs. Wells 
 shook her head warningly. 
 
 "Maybe you've turned it under your mattress, 
 just as you did your petticoat last month," pur- 
 sued the matron, briskly throwing over the mat- 
 tress. 
 
 "I " began Mrs. Dodd, but another look from 
 her roommate kept her silent. 
 
 "Well, it isn't around your bed surely," an- 
 nounced Miss Timpkins, and she gazed upward 
 as if expecting to see it on the ceiling. 
 
 "You haven't got it on, have you, Mrs. Wells ?" 
 she queried. "Probably," with an accent of re- 
 lief, "you've got Mrs. Dodd's on, and yours is 
 under your pillow." 
 
 "Me, Miss Timpkins!" remonstrated Mrs. 
 Wells. "It takes four yards to make me a night- 
 gown, and it takes ten for Sereny. Look !" she 
 once more jumped from her bed and held 
 her nightdress out as a little girl does her frock 
 at dancing school. "Don't you want to pull my
 
 MRS. DODD RISES EARLY 41 
 
 bed to pieces?" she asked, with mild sarcasm. 
 
 "Why, yes," said Miss Timpkins, "that's a 
 good idea," and she promptly acted upon it to 
 Mrs. Wells's rather indignant amazement, but 
 without results. 
 
 "It was one of my two new ones," lamented 
 Mrs. Dodd. "My niece Lyddy from over to Holt 
 sent it to me for Christmas. They was trimmed 
 with torchon, the first ones I ever had trimmed 
 with torchon I" she wailed. 
 
 "What's going on?" called Miss Sally Sloane, 
 hastening from her room across the hall. 
 
 "Mrs. Dodd has lost her nightgown," replied 
 Miss Timpkins. 
 
 "Was it one of those your niece Lyddy give 
 you?" asked Miss Sloane. 
 
 "Yes, it was," sobbed Mrs. Dodd, "all trimmed 
 with torchon !" 
 
 "I think," interposed the matron, "we won't 
 hunt any more to-night. You'd better get a 
 clean one. We'll find the other to-morrow." 
 
 "But I don't want to put on a clean one," ob- 
 jected Mrs. Dodd. "I always wear my night- 
 gowns week and week about, and if I get on a clean 
 one now, it will mix me all up so's I shan't know 
 which from 'tother." 
 
 "But what will you do?" gently inquired Miss 
 Timpkins. 
 
 "I don't know," said Mrs. Dodd and wailed 
 afresh. 
 
 "I tell you what," offered good-natured Sally
 
 42 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 Sloane, "I'll lend her one of my nice print bed- 
 gowns. I've got an extra supply." And she 
 waddled away. 
 
 "I never wore a print bedgown in all my life!" 
 rebelled Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "There has to be a first time to everything, Mrs. 
 Dodd," said Miss Timpkins, soothingly. "And 
 Miss Sally's the only lady in the house that has 
 one that will fit, and I don't see what else you 
 can do if you don't wish to get your own clean 
 one. Now you undo your waist and I'll slip off 
 your shoes and stockings." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd fumbled awkwardly at the hooks 
 and eyes of her bodice, and Miss Timpkins, 
 straightening up a few minutes later to assist 
 the old fingers, commented, pleasantly: 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Dodd ! You're stouting up ! We'll 
 have to see about a new waist for you before long." 
 And Mrs. Dodd, brightening, declared : 
 
 "It's all in the contract, 'Boarded and lodged 
 and suitably clothed.' ' 
 
 Miss Timpkins threw back the waist upon Mrs. 
 Dodd's plump shoulders, then pulled it off her 
 still plumper arms. She halted staring, but after 
 a second's delay, proceeded to unfasten Mrs. 
 Dodd's skirts and dropped them on the floor. 
 
 "I guess you can get right into bed," said she, 
 and there was a note of repressed amusement in 
 her voice. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd plucked confusedly at throat and 
 wrists and crept between the sheets without utter-
 
 MRS. DODD RISES EARLY 43 
 
 ing a word. Miss Timpkins gathered up the old 
 lady's apparel and laid it across a chair, and 
 called, "Never mind the gown, Miss Sloane. Mrs. 
 Dodd doesn't need it, after all. Good-night, Mrs. 
 Wells. Good-night, Mrs. Dodd!" She turned 
 out the light and left the room. 
 
 As the door closed Mrs. Wells rose noiselessly 
 up in bed and in tones of rapturous comprehen- 
 sion exclaimed, "O Sereny Dodd, you've had your 
 nightgown on all day !"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 MRS. DODD'S TREASURE 
 
 IT was a quiet day at the Home ; not a Sunday, 
 for then the minister would have been down- 
 stairs giving- his Sabbath-day talk, and the glee- 
 club from the college on the hill singing "Corona- 
 tion" or "Jerusalem the Golden" ; not a board- 
 meeting day; not a visiting day; not a holiday; 
 no, not even the day for bringing up the clean 
 clothes, which made some sort of a diversion ; but 
 just a plain, ordinary, everyday week-day in early 
 March, the betwixt and between time with just 
 nothing going on ! And Mrs. Dodd sighed heav- 
 
 ily: 
 
 "I wish to goodness I'd made that African last 
 longer, Samanthy ! How I do miss it !" She 
 yawned sleepily and complained, "It certain is 
 awful dull, awful, awful dull!" and little Mrs. 
 Wells, pottering about, agreed, amiably: 
 
 "Turrible, Sereny, turrible !" 
 
 A moment later there was a crash. Mrs. Wells 
 uttered a faint scream, while Mrs. Dodd, forget- 
 ful of her drowsiness, bounced forward in her big 
 Boston "rocker," exclaiming: 
 
 "For pity's sake, Samanthy Wells, can't I 
 take my eye off of you for one teeny quarter of 
 
 half a second 'thout you be up to some caper?" 
 
 44
 
 MRS. DODD'S TREASURE 45 
 
 She paused, then burst forth again, as she be- 
 held fragments of gay-hued china scattered upon 
 the floor, "My soap-dish cover! My white chiny 
 soap-dish cover, with the yellow buttercups 
 painted on it and a green and gold bow-knot for 
 a handle that my Boldwood's grandma presented 
 me down in the old South County, the year him 
 and me was married, and " wildly, "you've 
 smashed it ! Oh, dear, dear, dear, I'd rather paid 
 two million dollars in silver square out of my best 
 black silk pocket than had it happen ! What 
 you done it for?" 
 
 "I didn't mean to 1" wailed Mrs. Wells. "O 
 Sereny, I didn't mean to!" 
 
 "Do you recolleck what Mrs. Didn't-mean-to 
 done once?" demanded Mrs. Dodd, her voice sink- 
 ing to abysmal depths. "She clim to the top 
 shelf of the closet and borryed her pa-in-law's 
 razor to cut buttonholes with !" 
 
 "You'd never known if I hadn't told you," 
 reproached Mrs. Wells. "But 'twas me. I don't 
 deny it. And my new ashes-of-roses Irish poplin, 
 and it cut 'em just elegant ! But I ain't an idee 
 to this day and hour how Pa Wells come to sus- 
 picion it!" 
 
 " 'Twas peculiar," commented Mrs. Dodd, 
 dryly. "But," raising her tones in high -indigna- 
 tion, "that ain't neither here nor there! What 
 I'm asking is, 'What you done it for?' ' 
 
 "Highty-tighty !" reproved Miss Sally Sloane, 
 attracted from her room by the hubbub. "What's
 
 46 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 the matter, Mrs. Dodd? What you pitching into 
 Mrs. Wells so for?" 
 
 "She's been and gone and broke my soap-dish 
 cover, that's what's the matter!" gustily pro- 
 claimed Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "Shucks !" derided Miss Sloane. "I persumed 
 from the way you was carrying on that 'twas 
 something worth while." 
 
 "I guess you'd persume 'twas something worth 
 while," retorted Mrs. Dodd, "if your husband's 
 grandma had give you a white chiny toilet-set 
 all painted over with yellow buttercups and green 
 and gold bow-knots for handles, and that soap- 
 dish cover was the one lorn piece you'd got left 
 out of the whole caboodle, and you'd lugged it 
 from pillow to post more'n forty-leven times the 
 one thing," impressively, "I always moved by 
 hand and now Samanthy Wells has up and 
 smashed it to smithereens, and won't even own up 
 what she done it for ! There used to be a cake 
 of 'Spicy Breezes' soap that come with it, but I 
 ain't onreasonable. I expect some things to take 
 to themselves wings and fly away, but soap-dish 
 covers, soap-dish covers with yellow buttercups 
 painted on 'em and green and gold bow-knots 
 for handles, never, no, never!" 
 
 "It slipped," quavered Mrs. Wells. "I was 
 just a-dusting it and it slipped." She threw 
 her apron over her head, and from behind it is- 
 sued soft weeping. 
 
 "I'm proper sorry for you both," sympathized
 
 MRS. DODD'S TREASURE 47 
 
 Miss Sloane. "Still we'd ought to be thankful 
 for what blessings we've got, and one of them is 
 that Mr. Dodd's poor old grandma ain't here to 
 view the destruction." 
 
 Mrs. Wells peeped around the frill of her 
 apron. "She wa'n't old," she protested, "She 
 was only our age when she passed away if we 
 live to our next birthday, wa'n't she, Sereny? 
 And her hair was as black as a coal, not a white 
 spear in it, was there, Sereny? She must've been 
 a turrible hahnsome lady, and your Boldwood, 
 he favored his grandma a sight, I've often heerd 
 you say so, Sereny." 
 
 But Mrs. Dodd, not to be propitiated, only 
 stared stonily into space, and again Miss Sloane 
 took up the gauntlet. 
 
 " 'Tennyrate, there ain't no woe but there. is 
 worser," she averred. "And s'posen," her gaze 
 wandered about the room, upward to the ceiling, 
 downward to the floor, "s'posen," solemnly, "it'd 
 been Mrs. Wells's little toe !" 
 
 "My suzzy me!" squealed Mrs. Wells, agitat- 
 edly hopping from one foot to the other. 
 "Which one, Miss Sloane? Which one?" 
 
 "Well," defied Mrs. Dodd, "s'posen, s'posen!" 
 
 Mrs. Wells gasped. Miss Sloane's honest 
 gray eyes grew big with shocked amazement. 
 "Come away, Mrs. Wells," she adjured, in hushed 
 accents, "come away. Let us leave her and her 
 cruel thoughts together." 
 
 With the mien of an offended duchess, a very
 
 48 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 round and chubby duchess, Miss Sloane swept 
 from the room, and Mrs. Wells, gathering up the 
 broken china, cast one furtive glance backward 
 and followed in Miss Sloane's wake. 
 
 "Go then, stay then, never come back again!" 
 called Mrs. Dodd, stormily, after them. The door 
 shut gently ; Mrs. Dodd was alone. 
 
 For a few minutes she rocked violently to and 
 fro, muttering disjointed scraps of sentences; 
 presently she became silent, her color faded, and 
 grasping the footboard of the bed, she drew her- 
 self to her feet, and trudging to the bureau, 
 opened the upper drawer. She returned to her 
 chair and outspread upon her lap a large flat 
 white flour-bag, wadded and perfumed as a sa- 
 chet. In one corner was an immense bow of pink 
 satin ribbon and below was outlined with pink 
 floss and in a somewhat tipsy fashion: 
 
 May we never roam 
 Far from home 
 And each other! 
 
 "It was her first Christmas gift to me," she 
 murmured, smoothing out the sachet bag tenderly. 
 "Her very first! And I've been that ch'ice of it, 
 that I've kept it wropped up in tissue-paper and 
 tied about with pink baby ribbon just as I hauled 
 it out of my stocking that Christmas morning." 
 She sniffed unhappily. "To think that Saman- 
 thy Wells would up and quarrel with me in my
 
 MRS. DODD'S TREASURE 49 
 
 declining years, and go off with a strange wo- 
 man !" 
 
 Once more she rose, and with a tragic gesture 
 thrust the sachet bag back in the drawer, and 
 resuming her seat, went on lugubriously, "What's 
 forty white chiny soap-dish covers with eighty 
 sprays of buttercups painted on 'em and and 
 twice eighty green and gold bow-knot handles 
 compared with upsetting Samanthy Wells's peace 
 and happiness! An old soap-dish cover that 
 wouldn't sell at auction for a sou-markee!" 
 The tears trickled down her plump cheeks, her 
 double chin quivered, and she groaned aloud, 
 "Always sinning! Always repenting! That's 
 Sereny Dodd!" 
 
 The afternoon wore on, the clock on the land- 
 ing chimed, "One, two, three, four ! One two, 
 three, four! One, two, three, four!" then sol- 
 emnly boomed, "One, two, three, four, five, six!" 
 Mrs. Dodd drew a long breath. "Well, I guess 
 it's all over now. She's gone, Samanthy's gone ! 
 Probably she's told Miss Timpkins she can't stand 
 Sereny Dodd's temper no longer!" 
 
 But just then she heard the patter of foot- 
 steps, the door flew wide, and Mrs. Wells entered. 
 Behind her was the brilliantly lighted corridor, 
 but the room was very dark, and she halted, ex- 
 claiming : 
 
 "O me ! O my ! Sereny Dodd ! Ain't you turned 
 on the 'lectricity yet?"
 
 50 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 She pulled the dangling chain beside the door, 
 and the light fell on an object of splendor borne 
 aloft in one hand. "Ain't it bee-yutif ul ?" she 
 rejoiced, "Ain't it perfectly lovely?" 
 
 Then perceiving her roommate's tear-stained 
 face, Mrs. Wells gingerly placed the soap-dish 
 cover upon the wash-stand, and hastened towards 
 Mrs. Dodd, crying, "Why-ee, Sereny ! What ails 
 you?" 
 
 "You," gulped Mrs. Dodd, "you went off with 
 Sally Sloane!" 
 
 "I never!" contradicted Mrs. Wells. "I never! 
 I walked out of the door behind Sally Sloane, 
 but I went straight to Miss Timpkins, and she 
 and me've been fixing your soap-dish cover ever 
 since! We had to wait 'tween whiles for the 
 gum-stickum to dry, but there 'tis, solid's Roger 
 Williams's Rock ! You couldn't find a crack in it 
 if you put on both pairs of your glasses and I 
 lent you mine into the bargain ! Ain't you glad, 
 Sereny ?" 
 
 "I be glad! I be glad at everything you do, 
 Samanthy!" rejoined Mrs. Dodd, humbly. 
 "Maybe I don't always act so, but Sereny Dodd's 
 a poor creetur, a-making good resolutions and 
 a-breaking good resolutions till sometimes she's 
 so disapp'inted in herself seem zif she should 
 die!" 
 
 "There, there!" cooed Mrs. Wells, patting her 
 roommate's shoulder. "I ain't minding. I knew 
 'twas just from the mouth out. Hark!" The
 
 MRS. DODD'S TREASURE 51 
 
 Japanese gong was pealing from the lower hall. 
 "Listen to that ! It's hollering, 'Supper's on the 
 table, Sereny and Samanthy !* ' She clasped 
 Mrs. Dodd's pudgy hands with her own small 
 ones. "Let's accept the invitation. A bite to 
 eat and a nice hot cup of tea won't do neither 
 of us no harm. We've had a trying afternoon, 
 though," her mild blue eyes twinkled quizzically, 
 "not quite so dull as you and me calc'lated on, 
 hey, Sereny?"
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE SCARLET CHINA CRAPE SHAWL 
 
 MARCH had been a wild and stormy month, with 
 rain and sleet and snow, and snow and sleet and 
 rain and always the blustering breezes; but now 
 had dawned a sunny windless morning, and Mrs. 
 Dodd averred: 
 
 "Roared in like a mountain lion, whooped and 
 yelled ever since, but here 'tis the thirty-first, 
 and the month's going out gentle's Mary's little 
 lamb. Guess our Betty'll have a good day to 
 start off on, after all." 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells nodded. Yes, it was true. 
 Betty Macdonald, having served five years in the 
 land flowing with milk and honey, the land pro- 
 saically termed "the States," was about to take 
 flight to distant Pictou for a short visit. 
 
 All the Home people were so interested. Miss 
 Timpkins had changed the maid's savings into 
 gold, adding, as grateful Betty had informed each 
 member of the household, a "whole entire extra 
 week's wages." Mrs. Demeter Ford had con- 
 structed a money-bag of chamois to hang about 
 Betty's neck; old Mrs. Farwell had bestowed from 
 her very few possessions six stereopticon views of 
 Bangor, Maine, and little Mrs. Wells, sticking the 
 
 last one of the pins into the pin-ball destined as 
 
 52
 
 THE SCARLET CRAPE SHAWL 53 
 
 her own parting gift to Betty, grieved inwardly: 
 
 "Everyone is presenting Betty with a keepsake 
 everyone but Sereny." And unable to re- 
 strain herself longer, the little woman cried, "Se- 
 reny Dodd, ain't you got anything for a present 
 for Betty Macdonald?" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd fixed startled black eyes upon her 
 roommate. A moment later, she rejoined, com- 
 posedly : 
 
 "I've been thinking, Samanthy Wells." 
 
 She pulled out the drawer of the light-stand be- 
 fore her, extracted from within a small flat pack- 
 age and snapped the string. As she proceeded 
 to reveal the contents, Mrs. Wells gasped: 
 
 "O me ! O my ! You ain't ever meaning to give 
 away your scarlet Chiny crape shawl, Sereny 
 Dodd!" 
 
 And again Mrs. Dodd rejoined, deliberately: 
 
 "I've been thinking." 
 
 "I always did declare 'twas the splendidest 
 thing I ever did see." Mrs. Wells reached for- 
 ward and touched the delicate glowing fabric 
 with caressing finger-tips. "Why, it's sheer as 
 one of them Injy muslins old deep-sea Captain 
 Rymer used to tell about, that'd go through your 
 wedding ring!" 
 
 "This one went through a napkin ring oncet," 
 affirmed Mrs. Dodd. "All but the fringe. My 
 Boldwood was a master hand at trying things 
 and 'twas him that done it. Not but once, 
 though," grimly, "I seen to that!"
 
 54 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells, still gloating over the silken 
 folds, hazarded, " It must have cost a mort of 
 money." 
 
 "Like enough, first off," acknowledged Mrs. 
 Dodd, indifferently, "though it never cost me 
 naught but worry." She settled back in her 
 chair and continued, "I'll tell you all about it. 
 This shawl has a hist'ry. My husband, Bold- 
 wood Dodd, picked it up in the Public Gardens 
 down to Boston. He'd traveled down there to 
 buy stock for the shop, one pound of horse-shoe 
 nails, I don't imagine he saved one copper Can- 
 ady penny by it, but he enj'yed the journey and 
 I didn't objeck, and whilst he was eating his 
 lunch, he spied between the rails at the back of 
 the bench this shawl on the ground. He fished 
 through and hauled it up and spread it out be- 
 side him to dry, for 'twas all damp with the dew. 
 He stayed there more'n an hour, but there wa'n't a 
 soul come nigh. So when he'd finished his snack, 
 he lugged it over to the depot and showed it to 
 the telegraph operator; he was a Torbolton boy, 
 and Boldwood was well acquainted with him. And 
 I don't s'pose the shawl did appear much ac- 
 count then, all wisped up and draggled he said, 
 'Fling it away. 'Tain't worth bothering about.' 
 
 "But Boldwood knew better'n to do that and he 
 brought it home to me, and after I'd cleaned it 
 with French chalk and dipped it into naphtha and 
 unsnarled the fringe and stretched it on my lace 
 curtain stretcher, lo and behold, it was another
 
 THE SCARLET CRAPE SHAWL 55 
 
 creetur! And my conscience sort of smote me, 
 so Boldwood advertised, not straight put, but 
 mysterious like, 'Found, an article of value. Ap- 
 ply, Rising Sun office, Box 2121.' " 
 
 "Any answers?" queried Mrs. Wells. 
 
 "Answers!" exclaimed Mrs. Dodd. "Well, I 
 should say! Box 2121 wouldn't hold 'em! They 
 had to set out a laundry basket to ketch the over- 
 flow! You wouldn't believe there was so many 
 articles of value in these Torbolton Plantations 
 as folkses sent word they'd lost. They ranged 
 all the way from sable muffs to pieces of hand- 
 writ po'try. But no one mentioned a scarlet 
 Chiny crape shawl, so I kept it." 
 
 "You always did dote on red, Sereny," re- 
 marked Mrs. Wells. 
 
 "I did and I do," assented Mrs. Dodd. "But 
 somehow or 'nother, I never got much satisfac- 
 tion out of this shawl. First time I wore it to 
 church, only time," she corrected, "Parson Bur- 
 ritt must have been awful ann'yed, for the entire 
 congregation like as they was one woman just 
 oggled my shawl ! And when the meeting was 
 over, not a child could be either coaxed or driv' 
 into Sunday-school they had it right after serv- 
 ice, and the vestibule was chock-full of little 
 boys and girls till Sereny Dodd had fled away 
 out of sight. And Boldwood, he set his foot 
 down hard. But once when he was off to Boston 
 again for a day, I donned it for the Cawcawm- 
 squissick Chapel Picnic. And after the co-alation
 
 56 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 was over you know how awful thirsty you are 
 after you've sampled ham sandwiches and sardines 
 in mustard and the lemonade's gi'n out Sister 
 Whittum and me sa'ntered down the railroad 
 track to get a drink at the Founder's Spring; 
 and this shawl actooally stopped a train of karo- 
 sene-oil cars. They calc'lated 'twas a blazing 
 bonfire. And the conductor," Mrs. Dodd coughed 
 deprecatingly, " he was a good-looking man with 
 a black mustache, but he didn't talk real pretty." 
 
 "He'd ought to 'a' been ashamed!" declared 
 Mrs. Wells, while Mrs. Dodd went on : 
 
 "Then I packed it away in cedar wood chips, 
 but landee, I never walked out of that tenement 
 if 'twa'n't no more'n around to the grocery after 
 a quart of potatoes but my heart would go pit- 
 a-pat for fear some burglar would climb in and 
 steal it whilst I was gone. Howsomever," cheer- 
 ily, "he never done it. And here 'tis, and I've 
 been thinking " 
 
 At this instant a pleasant voice greeted them 
 from the doorway, "Good morning, ladies !" 
 
 "Come in, come in, Betty !" invited Mrs. Wells, 
 and Mrs. Dodd, beaming a cordial welcome, ob- 
 served : 
 
 "Got out my Chiny crape shawl, Betty. How 
 do you like it?" 
 
 As the maid stepped into the room, little Mrs. 
 Wells's countenance assumed an anxious expres- 
 sion. She winked at Betty, winked with vigor 
 and with great significance, winked her left eye.
 
 THE SCARLET CRAPE SHAWL 57 
 
 It was, discreetly enough, the eye remote from 
 Mrs. Dodd, but unfortunately, the eye remote 
 from Betty also, so the maid, all unconscious of 
 the kindly warning intended, bending her atten- 
 tion upon the gorgeous web draping Mrs. Dodd's 
 knees, pronounced: 
 
 "Hahnsome! Hahnsome! Dunno's I ever see 
 anything hahnsomer. But," with a glance at the 
 snowy, cap-surmounted hair, the wrinkled if 
 rosy old face, and the portly figure of Mrs. 
 Serena Dodd, "p'raps a speck, just a speck 
 too gay." 
 
 "Gay!" ejaculated Mrs. Dodd. "Gay!" 
 
 "Yes," insisted Betty, "gay. Now if you'd 
 rip off the fringe " 
 
 "Rip off the fringe!" repeated Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "And trim it up with a good deep frilling of 
 black net footing and set in a couple of rows of 
 insertion to match, 'twould tone it down a consid- 
 erable lot." 
 
 "Tone it down!" Mrs. Dodd began to fold up 
 the shawl; Mrs. Wells fidgeted unhappily, and 
 Betty continued: 
 
 "Or better still, dye it." 
 
 "Dye it!" Mrs. Dodd's accents were stormy, 
 "dye it! Dye my scarlet Chiny crape shawl 
 my Boldwood discovered in the Public Gardens 
 down to Boston five and twenty years ago, and 
 fetched five and forty miles home to me! Sereny 
 Dodd thinks not!" 
 
 Mrs. Wells, who had winked sixteen times if
 
 58 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 she had winked once, now interrupted, desperately, 
 "You wouldn't call it too gay if 'twas yourn, 
 Betty?" 
 
 "Nothing's too gay for young folks," alleged 
 Betty. "They can deck out in grass-green yel- 
 low bordered round with sky-blue pink if they 
 feel to, being young. But for old ladies," she 
 hesitated, for Mrs. Dodd's aspect was severe, "or 
 for elderly ladies," gracious ! that did not suit 
 either ! "or for ladies of a certain age," Betty fan- 
 cied that Mrs. Dodd's features softened, and she 
 uttered the phrase again with complacency, "for 
 ladies of a certain age, that shawl, it can't be 
 denied, is too gay. Now if it was mine " 
 
 "But 'tain't!" retorted Mrs. Dodd. Bang! 
 The light-stand drawer was shut, the scarlet 
 China crape shawl had disappeared within, and 
 Mrs. Dodd, rocking briskly to and fro, was ap- 
 parently absorbed in rapt contemplation of the 
 swelling buds of the horse-chestnut tree on the 
 front lawn. 
 
 Betty stared at Mrs. Wells, Mrs. Wells stared 
 back, murmuring under her breath, "Simple Si- 
 mon !" Then aloud, with resignation, "What train 
 do you take for Boston to-morrow, Betty?" 
 
 "The nine-thirty," replied the maid. "I've 
 ordered the coach for nine." She broke into a 
 joyous laugh. "I haven't rid in anything but 
 'lectrics since I left Pictou. 'Twill seem pretty 
 nice." 
 
 "So 'twill," sympathized Mrs. Wells, and Mrs.
 
 THE SCARLET CRAPE SHAWL 59 
 
 Dodd, whose wrath, always short-lived, was al- 
 ready cooling, admonished her: 
 
 "Don't you forget to-morrow's April Fool's 
 Day, Betty. Be careful you don't get fooled." 
 
 "I never was fooled in all my born days," re- 
 sponded Betty, cheerfully. 
 
 "I've been, oodlins of times," volunteered little 
 Mrs. Wells. "Every April Fool's Day, reg'lar's 
 clock-work, my Absalom'd say, "O Samanthy, see 
 that flock of geese !' and I'd hop up from the 
 breakfast table, and skip to the window and peek 
 out and say, 'Where? Where?' And Absalom'd 
 clap me on the shoulder, and holler, 'One of 'em's 
 right here ! April Fool, Samanthy Wells ! Haw, 
 haw, haw!' You could most hear him to the 
 moon." 
 
 "Once a man, twice a child!" commented Mrs. 
 Dodd, amiably. "Now my Boldwood's trick was, 
 'See that horse running away!' Horses was in 
 his line, you know, he being a blacksmith and a 
 proper good judge of 'em, if I say it as shouldn't. 
 Sometimes I'd let him fool me just for fun, some- 
 times not." She sighed. "I've often wished 
 since I'd let him fool me oftener. He was tickled 
 as cuffee every identical time, and it didn't harm 
 me an ioty." 
 
 "No man, no woman, no child ever April-fooled 
 me!" boasted Betty, tossing her ruddy head. 
 "No one ever can!" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's eyes danced. "Is it a dare?" she 
 demanded.
 
 60 
 
 "Darst you! darst you!" challenged Betty. 
 
 "I never take a dare !" avowed Mrs. Dodd with 
 spirit. "You watch out !" 
 
 April first dawned bright and beautiful; and 
 Betty Macdonald, after scoffing merrily at mythi- 
 cal youngsters swinging on mythical gates and 
 imaginary dogs chasing imaginary cats up imag- 
 inary trees, had departed in the "coach ordered 
 for nine." 
 
 Now it was mid-afternoon, and the mail-car- 
 rier had just delivered a postal card addressed 
 to Mrs. Serena Dodd. 
 
 "I've got on my far-sights, Samanthy," said 
 Mrs. Dodd, passing the card to her roommate. 
 "You read it out." And Mrs. Wells read it 
 out: 
 
 '"DEAR MRS. DODD: You done it! Thank you, 
 ma'am. A good girl." 
 
 " 'For a good girl,' " explained Mrs. Dodd, "is 
 what I printed on the tag I fastened onto the 
 package. She must have unairthed it on the 
 train. 'Twas the good-by present I give her 
 when she wa'n't expecting it no more'n Adam and 
 Eve. Tucked it in her .satchel when she was hug- 
 ging old Mrs. Farwell and kind of off her guard." 
 And at little Mrs. Wells's bewildered look, she 
 added, in genial reproach: 
 
 "Don't you understand, Samanthy? I've 
 April-fooled Betty Macdonald, April-fooled her 
 good and plenty with my scarlet Chiny crape
 
 THE SCARLET CRAPE SHAWL 61 
 
 shawl, the very same shawl my Boldwood discov- 
 ered down to Boston and fetched home to me with 
 the one pound of horse-shoe nails he'd bargained 
 for." Mrs. Dodd was one vast expansive smile. 
 "Didn't I tell Betty Macdonald that Sereny Dodd 
 never takes a dare? Well, she ain't done it this 
 time, neither!"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 MRS. DODD'S BANDBOX 
 
 IT was, indeed, a short visit that Betty Mac- 
 donald made. Two days and two nights of rail- 
 road travel, a long drive across half Pictou 
 County, joyous welcomes from everyone, presents 
 distributed, friends and relatives visited, then 
 two Saturdays having passed without any wages 
 coming in but any amount of "good red gold" 
 going out, Betty, with the "wander-lust" again 
 in her veins, had turned her face once more to- 
 ward Torbolton. And it was the morning after 
 her arrival that Mrs. Dodd was saying: 
 
 "Just twenty days since Betty bade us fare- 
 well, and now she's back again," and as she heard 
 the thud of the pail in the hall where Betty was 
 beginning her task of washing windows, "Don't 
 it seem good to hear her banging round?" She 
 repeated, reflectively, "Twenty days, why that 
 makes to-day the twenty-first of April. Massy 
 sakes, Samanthy Wells ! Where's my spring bun- 
 nit? The day after the day after to-morrow 
 'twill have been gone two weeks. Sometimes I 
 most mistrust 'taint ever coming back !" 
 
 "Tut! Tut!" chided little Mrs. Wells, " 'Tain't 
 for you or me, Sereny Dodd, to be doubting 
 Thomases. Why"
 
 MRS. DODD'S BANDBOX 63 
 
 She was interrupted by the brisk tap-tapping 
 of heels along the corridor. Both women glanced 
 alertly at the door, and Mrs. Dodd said, "S'pose 
 it's it, Samanthy?" 
 
 "Likely," replied Mrs. Wells. "Likely, more'n 
 likely, Sereny." 
 
 The next instant, Miss Timpkins stood before 
 them, poising on uplifted fingers an affair of lace 
 and ribbon and flowers, two ostrich tips and a 
 steel buckle, and announced, cheerily: 
 
 "Here's Mrs. Dodd's new bonnet! Done over 
 fine ! Everything freshened up except the violets, 
 they were too faded to use again, so I bought a 
 brand-new spray of heliotrope straight out of the 
 show-case." 
 
 She paused. The pleased expectant look had 
 died out of the two old faces. Mrs. Wells cast 
 down her blue eyes, while Mrs. Dodd studied with 
 somber black orbs the headgear held forth for 
 her inspection. "Where's the box?" she de- 
 manded. 
 
 "The box !" faltered the matron. 
 
 "Yes, the box. The bunnit-box. Don't they 
 give 'em nowadays? When I used to buy my 
 own bunnits they always come in a box. I wouldn't 
 've took 'em less they did." She continued in 
 accents more of sorrow than of anger, "If -you'd 
 only brought me the box, I'd never said a word. 
 But now I ain't nothing to conceal. I never liked 
 them vi'lets you had my bunnit trimmed with 
 three seasons ago, but I ain't never owned up
 
 64* SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 to nobody all these years, have I, Samanthy?" 
 
 "Not to nobody but me," concurred Mrs. 
 Wells. 
 
 "And though," pursued Mrs. Dodd, "I was pre- 
 pared, for the sake of saving the board expense, 
 to put up with them vi'lets for a spell longer, I 
 hated 'em. I hate purple! Lavender or lay- 
 lock or morve or vi'let or heliotrope, it's all one to 
 Sereny Dodd. Just purple, purple, purple! I 
 despise 'em all! And moreover and to boot, in 
 my opinion purple's too old for a lady of my age. 
 And Samanthy thinks the same, don't you, Sa- 
 manthy ?" 
 
 Mrs. Wells nodded. "And for me, too," she 
 gently observed. 
 
 "New purple flowers !" Mrs. Dodd sighed. "But 
 I wouldn't said a word if you'd only brought me a 
 box. I want a box awful !" 
 
 "Dear me! Dear, dear me!" murmured Miss 
 Timpkins. 
 
 "Strange how Sereny doos love boxes," piped 
 up Mrs. Wells. "Now I've got an idee, ma'am. 
 Just you let me tell it. Couldn't you send the 
 bunnit back, and have them purple flowers changed 
 for pink ones, a rose, or a 'zalia, or a bleeding- 
 heart? Sereny sets turrible store by pink. And 
 if the board decides you've really got to keep the 
 heliotrope, you might lay it aside for old Mrs. 
 Farwell's next bunnit. But this time, Miss Timp- 
 kins, you be firm. Say you've got to have a box !" 
 
 She smiled entreatingly at the matron, who
 
 MRS. DODD'S BANDBOX 65 
 
 smiled back, thinking, "We'll all be old ourselves 
 sometime," and answered, good-naturedly, "Of 
 course I can, and I will." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's black eyes softened. "I don't like 
 to hurt folkses' feelings, Miss Timpkins," she 
 plaintively asserted, "not more'n the next one. 
 But if they don't know the diffrunce 'twixt seven- 
 ty-nine and a hundred, somebody's got to tell 
 'em, and seems as if 'twas always me had to taykle 
 them hateful jobs!" 
 
 Two days later Mrs. Dodd was gazing at her 
 second self in the depths of the mirror and exult- 
 ing, "That pink rose is perfectly lovely! O me! 
 O my !" she sniffed rapturously. "I can e'en 
 a'most smell it ! And as for the cunning little teen- 
 ty-tawnty buds on top, the Queen of Sheby in all 
 her glory couldn't ever had anything hahnsomer !" 
 She turned her head from side to side and bri- 
 dled complacently. "Pink always was my color, 
 always ! And I will say for Miss Timpkins that 
 if she's some slow about catching on, when she 
 does catch on, it's with a grip like iron !" 
 
 Still beaming joyously, she stepped to the 
 closet, took from the shelf a bandbox a bandbox 
 encased in a gay plaided gingham bag, a band- 
 box evidently of Mrs. Dodd's youth and pro- 
 ceeded, to her roommate's unbounded astonish- 
 ment, to place within it the new bonnet. As she 
 carefully tucked in the tissue-paper and tied the 
 drawing-string, Mrs. Wells found her tongue. 
 
 "Land alive, Sereny Dodd !" she gasped. "What
 
 66 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 on airth be you going to do with that new band- 
 box you raised such a catouse about?" 
 
 "Nothing," replied Mrs. Dodd, placidly. 
 "Nothing. Only I ain't never real comfortable 
 in my mind 'less I have a box on hand in case. 
 And this one," she patted the shining white box 
 with affection, "is grand, simply grand ! Though 
 I ain't a speck of room where to keep it. My 
 closet's cram-jam-full." She looked tentatively 
 toward her companion. 
 
 "Mine, too, Sereny." Mrs. Wells's voice was 
 as determined as so gentle a voice could be. "And 
 what's more, I've got your blanket wrapper and 
 your best shoes in it. There ain't another inch 
 to spare." Such gloom, however, darkened Mrs. 
 Dodd's countenance that the little woman sug- 
 gested hastily, "There's the hall closet." 
 
 Sure enough there was the hall closet ; and pres- 
 ently Mrs. Dodd, having pushed the box out of 
 sight under the stairs, was admonishing, "Now 
 don't you touch it, Samanthy." And at her com- 
 panion's aggrieved air, she added, significantly, 
 "Oncet someone, naming no names, Samanthy, took 
 my bee-yutiful gilt-aidged box my niece Lyddy 
 from over to Holt sent me Christmas with candied 
 fruit in it, and filled it chock-full with your 
 nephew Peter Rawdon's chocolate creams, and 
 presented it to old Mrs. Farwell, and I ain't ever 
 got it back." 
 
 "O Sereny !" broke in Mrs. Wells, reproachfully. 
 "She was turrible tickled. She ain't any Niece
 
 MRS. DODD'S BANDBOX 67 
 
 Lyddy nor Nephew Peter to cocker her up, poor 
 dear ! And I told her the box was your donation, 
 give you all the compliment, Sereny." 
 
 "Well, the deed's did," genially returned the 
 mollified Mrs. Dodd. "And as my Boldwood used 
 to say, 'So be it !' " 
 
 This was Thursday afternoon and on Friday 
 morning, when Mrs. Dodd heard footsteps in the 
 corridor, she called, "Betty ! Betty Macdonald !" 
 As Betty's ruddy head was thrust within the door, 
 she went on, "Betty, I wisht I had a box." 
 
 "Why-ee, Sereny ! You ain't forgot so quick !" 
 cried Mrs. Wells. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd stared at her roommate coldly i "I 
 never forget, Samanthy Wells !" said she, and 
 again, "Betty, I wisht I had a box." 
 
 "What kind of a box?" inquired Betty. "A 
 pill box or a packing-case?" 
 
 "Neither," said Mrs. Dodd, laughing. "A be- 
 twixt and between, I guess. My work box is 
 all falling to flinders, and I need a new one. You 
 put your mind to it, Betty, and you're so clever 
 I'm sure you'll find a way to get one." 
 
 Betty put her mind to it with such success 
 that inside a quarter of an hour Mrs. Dodd was 
 arranging within a shining white box her work 
 things, scissors and emery and thimblej needle- 
 book and pincushion, threads and silks of various 
 colors, averring with fervor: 
 
 "Betty's a good child! This box and the one 
 Miss Timpkins brought me my bunnit in is as
 
 68 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 alike as two peas in a pod, and I don't know 
 which to be thankfullest for.'* 
 
 A week had gone by, it was visiting day; and 
 Miss Lydia Barren "from over to Holt," was 
 spending a helpful hour in the southwest front 
 corner room of the Home. She had threaded a 
 couple of dozen needles for Mrs. Dodd, picked up 
 the dropped stitches in Mrs. Wells's knitting, had 
 praised the new bonnet generously, and then asked, 
 "How about your best dress, Aunt Sereny?" 
 
 "It's all right far's I know," began Mrs. Dodd, 
 vaguely. 
 
 But Mrs. Wells had darted to the closet and 
 was lifting from its hook a gown of old-fashioned 
 square-meshed grenadine, "reg'lar sewing-silk 
 grenadine. Cost four dollars a yard back in '65, 
 war prices them was." She shook out its folds, 
 declaring, "I'll tell you about it, Lyddy. It's 
 a leetle too tight over the chest, the waist-band's 
 a mite snug, and 'twouldn't harm the sleeves any 
 to len'then 'em down as much as half a palm's 
 breadth. I laid awake hours last night mulling 
 over it, and I calculate the way the style is now 
 that you could squeeze enough out of the skirt 
 to fix it so Sereny wouldn't call the queen her 
 cousin. Ruffles on the sleeves, a girdle belt, and a 
 crosswise strip down the front of the basque, 
 with buttons along the middle." 
 
 "That's pretty smart," said Miss Barron. 
 "I'll carry it home now and alter it so that aunty 
 can have it Sunday. But Miss Timpkins keeps
 
 MRS. DODD'S BANDBOX 69 
 
 you all pressed up so nice, 'twould be a pity to 
 crumple it. Have you got a box, Aunt Serena?" 
 
 "There!" exploded Mrs. Dodd. "You hear 
 that, Samanthy Wells?" She rose ponderously. 
 
 But Mrs. Wells was already at the hall closet, 
 proclaiming wildly, "O Sereny, 'taint here !" 
 
 "But it must be!" insisted Mrs. Dodd. "It 
 must be, I put it there." 
 
 "What are you after?" hailed Betty Macdon- 
 ald, at the end of the corridor. 
 
 From the hubbub that followed, she caught the 
 words, "Box! Box! Box!" 
 
 "To be sure," she admitted, composedly. 
 "That's where the box was I found for Mrs. Dodd 
 last week." 
 
 "You bad, bad, bad, bad, bad child!" wailed 
 Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "But I gave it to you, Mrs. Dodd," protested 
 Betty. "There 'tis this minute," she pointed 
 with indignant finger, "smack on your light- 
 stand." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd wrung her hands. "But I didn't 
 know 'twas that one, and I cut it down shallow 
 for my work things, and now my dress won't go 
 into it, and 'twill be all wrinkled, and " 
 
 "Sho, ma'am," soothed Betty, "sho, ma'am! 
 I never sink my foot in any deeper than I can haul 
 it out. I hadn't any more'n give you that box 
 when it flashed into my mind, s'posen some one of 
 the old ladies put it there, and I acted according." 
 
 She vanished up the attic stairs, then clattered
 
 70 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 down, and soon Mrs. Dodd was embracing with 
 agitated arms another box, another big white 
 shining box ! 
 
 Ten minutes later, with the grenadine gown 
 carefully packed within the box, "Niece Lyddy 
 from over to Holt," was passing down the grav- 
 eled path of the Home when Mrs. Dodd rapped 
 sharply on the window pane. "Lyddy ! Lyddy !" 
 she shrilled. "Be sure you fetch my bunnitbox 
 back!" Then contentedly settling her plump 
 person in the big Boston "rocker," she said, with 
 unction : 
 
 "There ain't no use a-talking, Samanthy 
 Wells ! Forethought's the thing ! Forethought ! 
 Forethought! And though it takes time and 
 stren'th and the will of a Bengal tiger, there 
 ain't nothing like having a box on hand in case !"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE FIRE WAGON 
 
 APRIL had slipped insensibly into May, not the 
 violet-scented, apple-blossomed, merry, merry 
 month of May, celebrated by the poets, but a very 
 "backward" May, a May, chilly, with no genial 
 warmth; and the dwellers in the big brick build- 
 ing on Quinton hill were still behind closed doors 
 and windows. 
 
 Clang! Clang! The notes of a fire-gong 
 smote rhythmically on the air, accompanied by the 
 hoof-beats of galloping horses, the clatter of 
 wagon-wheels, and above all, stentorian cries of 
 "Giddap ! giddap !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd, rousing from the cat-nap she had 
 been taking in her big Boston "rocker," muttered, 
 drowsily : 
 
 "Seem zif I heerd something!" 
 
 "Guess you did," giggled little Mrs. Wells. 
 "There was rumpus enough, I'm sure. 'Twas a 
 fire-wagon out on the avenue. But it's gone 
 now, and you might's well finish out your sail to 
 Noddy's Island." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd closed her eyes and Mrs. Wells, re- 
 suming her task of setting in order her bureau 
 drawers, mused, "Funny there's any idle hands 
 
 for Satan to find mischief for, so long's there's 
 
 71
 
 72 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 bury drawers above ground to straighten out!" 
 
 Presently she cocked her small head on one 
 side and listened intently. 
 
 Clang! Clang! Clang! Again sounded the 
 thudding of iron-shod hoofs upon the macadam, 
 the rattling of wagon-wheels, the strident urging 
 forward of the driver. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's black eyes flew wide open. She 
 bent forward and peered out, while little Mrs. 
 Wells, in her haste to reach the window, tipped 
 over the low wooden tabouret upon which she had 
 been sitting, stumbled and was too late to catch 
 even a glimpse of the cause of all the uproar. 
 
 "My suzzy me!" groaned Mrs. Dodd. "And 
 I had my reading glasses on, and couldn't make 
 out a thing one-quarter inch beyond my nose!" 
 
 Mrs. Wells picked up the tabouret and reseated 
 herself, and her roommate, pushing her spectacles 
 high up on her forehead, grumbled: 
 
 "If them fussybudgets of councilmen hadn't 
 voted to stop ringing the bells and have just a 
 still alarm sent in, we'd have known where that 
 fire is, Samanthy Wells !" 
 
 "They say 'twas to shut off the little boys," 
 explained Mrs. Wells. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd snorted. "Be we little boys? 
 We're the ones it shuts off. We that can't go and 
 don't go, but just hunger and thirst after a 
 leetle information." She went on plaintively, 
 "It used to be awful interesting to count the 
 alarm. Whenever my Boldwood'd hear it, midday
 
 THE FIRE WAGON 73 
 
 or midnight, no matter where, he'd halt in his 
 tracks and lift his forefinger stern, if 'twas day- 
 light I'd see him, if 'twas dark, I'd know he was 
 doing it, 'cause why, as old Mr. Henry said, 'I 
 have but one lamp to guide my feet, and that is 
 the lamp of experience,' and Boldwood Dodd, he 
 always done it, and he'd whisper, 'Hark, Se- 
 reny!' and Sereny'd hark. And he'd tick off the 
 bells and haul out the little book the numbers was 
 printed in from his vest pocket, had to get up 
 sometimes to light up to read by, and tell me 
 where 'twas. Then sensing 'twa'n't anything to 
 us, we didn't own any estates, we'd just. settle 
 down like Mr. Abraham Davenport, eating or 
 sleeping or playing backgammon. That was tak- 
 ing solid comfort." 
 
 Once more clang! clang! clang! fell upon their 
 ears, and Mrs. Dodd continued excitedly, "Lan- 
 dee, but here's another!" 
 
 This time little Mrs. Wells did not stumble as 
 she hurried to her roommate's side. 
 
 "Must be a turrible fire somewhere!" averred 
 Mrs. Wells. "S'pose I hunt up Miss Timpkins? 
 She, being matron, ought to " 
 
 "Miss Timpkins ain't to home," interrupted 
 Mrs. Dodd, gloomily. "She was streaking it off 
 down town an hour ago with Nora O'Hara's 
 green plumes a-bobbity-bobbing behind her. 
 And oh, oh, oh! If I ever!" pointing indig- 
 nantly at a figure flitting through the gate. 
 "Just look at Betty Macdonald a-skipping off
 
 74 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 too! But don't you care. There's the college 
 boy that tends the furnace. I'll ask him." She 
 rapped sharply on the window-pane. "Hullo! 
 Hullo you! Where's the fire?" 
 
 But the college boy, deaf to the appeal, vaulted 
 over the side fence and disappeared. 
 
 "He doesn't hear," lamented Mrs. Wells. The 
 next instant she had darted across the hall, cry- 
 ing, "Sally, Sally Sloane, where's the fire?" 
 
 Miss Sloane, lying on her bed, only resting 
 she never could sleep daytimes, you have her own 
 word for it responded, dreamily, "What fire?" 
 
 Mrs. Wells, scurrying toward the northwest 
 window, answered "The fire! The fire all them 
 fire-teams be going to ! Three of 'em's been by the 
 Home already. I don't know what the first two 
 was, for I didn't get to see 'em, only heard 'em, 
 but I calc'late 'twas the steamer and the rope- 
 and-ladder. But the last one was a great big 
 red-painted wagon like the paterole, and chock-a- 
 block full of firemen, some sitting, some standing, 
 some hanging on behind, all whooping like wild 
 Injuns, and the driver with a whip lashing out at 
 them horses, not hitting 'em once, you understand, 
 Sally, but whacking at 'em zif he meant to every 
 minute, and a-scaring them poor beasts nigh unto 
 death ! A turrible racket ! And you deef to it !" 
 
 Miss Sloane yawned, then rejoined, importantly, 
 "My mind was dealing with other things." 
 
 "I was in hopes you'd noticed where they went 
 to," said Mrs. Wells, reproachfully.
 
 THE FIRE WAGON 75 
 
 "P'raps 'twas the dump," hazarded Miss 
 Sloane. 
 
 "The dump's the other way, Sally Sloane! 
 And you know it when you're awake ! Where, oh, 
 where is that fire?" 
 
 "There's another one coming, Samanthy!" 
 called Mrs. Dodd, loudly. 
 
 Clang ! Clang ! Clang ! A "great big red-painted 
 wagon" loaded with jostling laughing men swept 
 by, and Miss Sally Sloane regarded them frown- 
 ingly, commenting: 
 
 "Joking and training and carrying on zif they 
 was on their way to a poppy-show! Done just 
 the same when our chicken-coops got on fire, and 
 our big Shanghai crower lost his tail-feathers. 
 They hooted at the poor misfortinate creetur. 
 M}, but I was hopping! And I'd 've walked 
 right out and treated 'em to a discourse on 
 manners only for pa; he wouldn't let me out 
 of the house, said fires wa'n't any place for 
 women." 
 
 And now along the corridor in her rolling chair 
 trundled old Mrs. Farwell, assisted on the one side 
 by Mrs. Demeter Ford, and on the other by bash- 
 ful Mrs. Prendergast. 
 
 "Where is the fire?" piped Mrs. Farwell, in her 
 thin tremulous tones. "Tell me, tell me !" 
 
 "We ain't diskivered yet, ma'am," replied Mrs. 
 Wells, with the respect due from youth to age, 
 while Mrs. Ford, loosing her grip on the chair, 
 stepped forward, proposing:
 
 76 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "Why not go out on the veranda? That would 
 furnish us a grand view." 
 
 Mrs. Wells grasped the brass knob of the upper 
 piazza door and tugged and pulled vigorously, 
 but in vain, and she desisted with : 
 
 " 'Tain't any use ! It's locked, and prob'ly 
 Miss Timpkins has hid the key." 
 
 For the fifth time the air was shattered by the 
 penetrating clamor of a fire gong, and little Mrs. 
 Wells almost wept. 
 
 "Must be a turrible, turrible fire," she wailed. 
 "And me never seeing a real fire in all my life, 
 not even a teenchy bit of a blaze. My Absalom, 
 he'd say, 'When the fire-bells ring, Samanthy, 
 you stay put !' And in them days no man would 
 marry you 'less you promised to obey, and having 
 promised, there wa'n't but one thing to do and I 
 done it. Even the year we was in San Francisco, 
 on board his ship in the harbor, when the fire 
 broke out in the city at eight o'clock in the even- 
 ing, Absalom said, 'Go to bed, Samanthy !' and 
 sore against the grain, I crawled into my berth 
 on the Golden Gate side 'twas, too and he rowed 
 ashore, and come back bright and early next 
 morning to tell me Frisco was in ashes, and me 
 not even getting a blink at it ! O me ! O my !" 
 She wrung her small hands despairingly. 
 
 Old Mrs. Farwell wagged her head sagely. 
 
 "That's men!" she affirmed. "Their idees 
 about women is mostly measured out in the same 
 little round pint cup. Now there was my pa,
 
 THE FIRE WAGON 77 
 
 good a man as ever trod shoeleather, but see what 
 he did. When the British burned Portland, 
 Maine, he and my ma were there on their honey- 
 moon, and what did my pa up and do but hire an 
 old nag and lug ma behind him on it ten miles 
 out into the country, back to them flames every 
 rod of the way," impressively, "till he landed her 
 in at Grandpa Dunham's. Then he struck back 
 hotfoot and witnessed the whole performance from 
 eend to eend. Worse and more of it if Grandpa 
 Dunham didn't travel along, too! Both of 'em 
 saying real loving and affectionate that they 
 couldn't enj'y it a mite 'less their wives was safe 
 from danger. Grandma Dunham and my ma they 
 took it pretty hard, and grandma, she was a 
 spirity old body, said their wives didn't want to 
 be safe from danger. What they wanted was to 
 see the goings-on!" 
 
 Mrs. Farwell paused and bashful Mrs. Pren- 
 dergast ventured, timidly: 
 
 "Men, they mean well." 
 
 "Exactly," conceded Mrs. Ford. "But they're 
 considerable likely to forget that women's human 
 and own just as many eyes and ears as them." 
 She halted as there flashed by a huge red vehicle 
 with its noisy hilarious occupants, and then spoke 
 with decision, "I'm going down to investigate." 
 
 "Miss Timpkins won't like it," cautioned Mrs. 
 Wells, but Mrs. Dodd encouraged: 
 
 "I glory in your spunk, Demeter Ford! Go 
 right along, only cover your bald spot so if you
 
 78 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 do ketch the influenzy, nobody can't twit you of 
 being keerless." 
 
 A moment later Mrs. Ford, her apron thrown 
 about her head and clutched vise-like beneath her 
 chin, was marching down the path, and as her 
 companions gazed from above, Mrs. Wells ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "Deary, deary me! Betty Macdonald's met 
 her and is bringing her back!" 
 
 The little woman, scudding to the top of the 
 stairs, hovered there till she beheld in the lower 
 hall the gleam of Betty's ruddy locks. Then she 
 demanded, eagerly: 
 
 "Where's the fire?" 
 
 But the maid, unheeding the query, said plain- 
 tively as she climbed the stairs, "Can't I just run 
 out to the letter-box 'thout " 
 
 "Don't be cross, Betty!" adjured Mrs. Wells. 
 "All we want is to know where the fire is." 
 
 Betty stared. "Fire!" she repeated. "What 
 fire?" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's deep contralto boomed forth from 
 her room: "The fire! The fire all them fire- 
 teams are chasing to ! Five six of 'em kiting 
 along the road zif they was lightning-bugs, and 
 not one of 'em come back yet! And my suzzy 
 me, but here's another ! You can see it for your- 
 self if you can't take our word for it, us half a 
 dozen church-members, all in good and reg'lar " 
 
 Clang! Clang! Clang! A fire-wagon sped by, 
 the bay horses dashing recklessly under the threat
 
 THE FIRE WAGON 79 
 
 of the lash, the driver roaring lustily, and the 
 blue-coats behind him waking the echoes. 
 
 "Hear that," triumphed Mrs. Dodd, "and act 
 zif there wa'n't any fire!" 
 
 "Well, there ain't any fire!" asserted Betty. 
 "They're just exercising a span of Vermont horses 
 that ain't ever been in a city before. The police- 
 man on our beat told me all about it." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's black eyes snapped. "A new 
 span of horses !" she gibed. "Betty Macdonald, 
 there's been seven span raced by already!" 
 
 "No, no !" protested Betty. "One span's been 
 round seven times. Now you all settle down and 
 watch out. Like enough, they'll come again." 
 
 And they came again, gong clanging, "Clear 
 the track! Clear the track!" wagon-wheels 
 swiftly whirling, horses racing, driver shouting, 
 firemen cheering, and Mrs. Wells sighed, while 
 Mrs. Dodd expressed the general sentiment, 
 "Don't men have the elegantest times?"
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 THE DAYS FOR OLD GLORY 
 
 IT was June. At least so it was termed in the 
 almanac, but it was following straitly in the tra- 
 ditions of that preceding month of May which had 
 been, to quote Mrs. Dodd, "as cold as Pharaoh's 
 heart." 
 
 Up from King Philip's Bay was whistling a 
 bleak and cutting wind, and little Mrs. Wells, 
 taking her morning "constitutional," shivered 
 and drew more tightly about her shoulders her 
 old-fashioned Paisley shawl. It was later than 
 usual when presently she crossed the end of Har- 
 mony Street, and looking a few rods down its 
 length saw the last pupil just entering the pri- 
 mary school. The bell ceased tolling, the clock 
 struck nine, and there was an upward flight of 
 the Stars and Stripes to the top of the flagpole in 
 the school yard, a momentary flutter of the gor- 
 geous bunting at the apex and the unfolding and 
 floating out of the banner upon the brisk breeze. 
 
 Mrs. Wells halted and for a few minutes 
 watched entranced, then turned reluctantly home- 
 ward, humming: 
 
 "Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light 
 What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam- 
 ing?" 
 
 80
 
 THE DAYS FOR OLD GLORY 81 
 
 She unconsciously sang the next words quite 
 aloud, 
 
 "Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the 
 
 clouds of the fight 
 O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly 
 
 streaming !" 
 
 And a gardener, clipping the privet hedge before 
 one of Torbolton's great mansions, lifted his 
 head to peer across the shrubbery and approve: 
 
 "Weel sangit, ma'am !" 
 
 And Mrs. Wells, pink with confusion, fled pre- 
 cipitately along the avenue to the Home where she 
 was soon announcing to Mrs. Dodd : 
 
 "Old Glory's waving on top of the Harmony 
 Street Primary School flagpole to-day. My, but 
 it's a splendid sight!" 
 
 "It's always a splendid sight," agreed Mrs. 
 Dodd, with enthusiasm. "I just love it! But 
 what on airth is it up to-day for? I don't seem to 
 recolleck anything special along this time of year. 
 What day of the month is it, anyhow?" 
 
 "The third," replied Mrs. Wells, promptly. 
 
 "Well, what's June third?' asked Mrs. Dodd. 
 "That will tell the story." 
 
 Mrs. Wells shook her head. "That's just what 
 I've been cudgeling my brains about," she con- 
 fessed. "In a general way, I'm first-class on his- 
 tory. Now if this was only April, I wouldn't 
 hesitate a mite. There's April twelfth, that's 
 Sumter, the nineteenth is Lexington and Concord,
 
 82 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 the ninth Lee surrendered, and if 'twas May, why 
 May fourth is our own Independence Day and " 
 
 "But 'tain't April or May!" asserted Mrs. 
 Dodd. "It's June!" 
 
 "June seventeenth is Bunker Hill Day," pro- 
 nounced Sally Sloane, waddling in from across 
 the way, where she had been listening interest- 
 edly. "But," loftily, "you don't celebrate that 
 in these plantations. That's good old Massachu- 
 setts' own particular. My ma was a Massachu- 
 setts woman, and I know. Leastwise, 'twas the 
 District of Maine in them days, but it's all the 
 same. Howsomever, Mrs. Wells, in my opinion, 
 it's more'n likely that flag you saw just meant 
 that somebody'd passed away. Wa'n't it hanging 
 halfway down the pole and all kind of droopy?" 
 
 "No, 'twa'n't!" retorted Mrs. Wells, with spirit. 
 " 'Twas clean up to the tippest top, and blow- 
 ing out straight's a string!" 
 
 "H-m-m-m!" said Miss Sloane, thoughtfully. 
 Then sinking into Mrs. Wells's low wicker 
 sewing chair which creaked protestingly under 
 Miss Sloane's ample avoirdupois, with, "S'pose I 
 might's well be comfortable as long as I stay," 
 she went on, "It must mean something, certain 
 sure. Now, if I only had my calendar the town 
 give me every January when pa was alive and was 
 postmaster, and we lived in our own owned house, 
 and I wa'n't in an institution, I'd find out for you 
 in a jiffy!" She sighed heavily, "Them are the 
 privileges I miss ! A new calendar every year, a
 
 THE DAYS FOR OLD GLORY 83 
 
 leather-covered memorandum book with a pencil 
 tied onto it with a pink ribbon, and if I wanted a 
 postage stamp all I had to do was to drop two 
 cents into the till." She swayed jerkily to and 
 fro, while little Mrs. Wells cast anxious glances 
 at the slender reeds of her chair. 
 
 "I've got a calendar, an elegant one my cousin 
 Albertine down in Pictou presented me with 
 Easter," volunteered Betty Macdonald, who had 
 just laid a pile of freshly laundered clothes on the 
 bed. "I'll fetch it to oncet, Mrs. Wells." 
 
 There was a rush up the attic stairs, a rush 
 down, and Betty re-entered, proclaiming, "I've 
 got it." 
 
 "Thank you, Betty," said Mrs. Wells. "Now 
 your eyes are younger'n mine, just you take a 
 peek inside, and see what happened June the 
 third." 
 
 "I can tell you that without peeking," giggled 
 Betty, "but here 'tis, all printed out." She 
 opened the calendar with a flourish. " 'Here's to 
 the health of the King ! God bless him ! George 
 the Fifth, King of Great Britain and Emperor of 
 India, son of Edward the Seventh and Alexandra 
 his queen, born 1865.' Our King's birthday, 
 ladies !" She beamed upon the three women. 
 
 Miss Sally Sloane stopped rocking; Mrs. Dodd 
 dropped her knitting; and Mrs. Wells, overcome 
 by a sudden weakness in her knees, she had seen 
 that flash in Mrs. Dodd's black eyes before, sat 
 down on the edge of her bed.
 
 84. SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "My land !" exclaimed Miss Sloane, with empha- 
 sis. 
 
 "My landee!" exclaimed Mrs. Dodd, with more 
 emphasis. "I guess you don't know what you're 
 talking about, Betty Macdonald! Our Star- 
 spangled banner up for the King of Great 
 Britain's birthday ! Why, we wouldn't done that 
 for Queen Victoria herself, let alone any of her 
 men-folks ! That wa'n't what my Great-grandsir 
 Graham fit, bled and died at Bunker Hill for!" 
 
 "No, sir-ree ! Nor mine at Saratogy !" shrilly 
 declared Miss Sloane. "Nor the other one that 
 went barefoot at Valley Forge ! And my pa was 
 out in the coast defense in '12! You just ought 
 to've heerd his tales!" 
 
 "I didn't have any one out in '12," interrupted 
 Mrs. Dodd, excitedly. "Good reason why! They 
 all was dead or wa'n't born ! But they took their 
 end of the log other times. Uncle Abner stormed 
 the fort at Chapultepec, my husband, Boldwood 
 Dodd, lost a leg in the Wilderness, and I," defi- 
 antly, "was a fighting McGay myself before I was 
 married, Betty Macdonald !" 
 
 Poor Betty, aghast at the avalanche she had 
 brought down upon herself, stared in bewilder- 
 ment, and little Mrs. Wells wrung her hands. 
 
 "Tut! tut!" A decisive if gentle voice was 
 speaking from the hall. Miss Timpkins had heard 
 the battle raging from afar off, and had now ap- 
 peared upon the scene. "Betty Macdonald, why 
 areri't you about your work? Ladies, ladies, you
 
 THE DAYS FOR OLD GLORY 85 
 
 know the rules ! You musn't raise your voices !" 
 
 "What they raising the flag on the Harmony 
 Street Primary School for, then?" belligerently 
 demanded Mrs. Dodd. "She says " pointing an 
 accusing finger at Betty, who tearfully protested: 
 
 "I didn't ! I never !" 
 
 "I don't know what they are raising the flag 
 for," returned Miss Timpkins, "but it's easily 
 ascertained. Betty, you go to the telephone, and 
 call up the schoolhouse and find out." 
 
 There was an interval of silence in the southwest 
 front corner room while everyone listened to the 
 one-sided telephone conversation. They heard 
 Betty's question, "What's your flag up to-day 
 for?" Then, "Yes, sir. Yes, sir; thank you, 
 sir !" 
 
 A second laterj Betty's ruddy head bobbed 
 above the balustrade. 
 
 "Well?" said Miss Timpkins. 
 
 "Yes'm," said Betty, breathlessly, "the janitor, 
 he says it ain't nothing special. Just the law. 
 He raises the flag every day!"
 
 THE INVITATION 
 
 AND now it was real June ; June roses were 
 blooming in the garden of the Home, June sun- 
 shine was glinting across the lawn, and into the 
 open windows June breezes were wafting gusts of 
 gay music. 
 
 "Now they've struck up 'Ho, lassies and lads, 
 get leave of your dads !' " announced little Mrs. 
 Samantha Wells. "O me ! O my !" wistfully, 
 "Wouldn't I admire to be up on them college 
 grounds ?" 
 
 "Same here !" sighed her roommate. "And," 
 Mrs. Dodd spoke with sudden resentment, 
 "we would be, too, if that college boy that tended 
 our furnace had done his duty by us. 'Member, 
 Samanthy Wells, how I tied up his sore thumb in 
 best Rooshy salve, some I'd had hid away on my 
 closet shelf this seven long years and more ? And 
 how you catered to his appetite with one of Peter 
 Rawdon's Sheldon pears last winter, and how Mrs. 
 Prendergast smelled that woodwork a-scorching, 
 and pre-ambled down to that cellar at dark mid- 
 night and shut off them drafts and never tattle- 
 taled to nobody ? But," stormily, "here we ladies 
 be, not an invite for one of us, only for our 
 
 matron, who, fur's I can find out, never did one 
 
 86
 
 THE INVITATION 87 
 
 identical thing for him 'cept pay him his celery 
 every Saturday night !" Her black eyes snapped. 
 "Say what you will, Samanthy Wells, I call it 
 peculiar !" 
 
 "It is peculiar," placated Mrs. Wells. "How- 
 somever, my ma taught me, 'Judge not !' and like 
 enough there's an excellent reason if we only 
 sensed it. F'rinstance, mebbe there ain't room." 
 
 "Room!" scoffed Mrs. Dodd. "Room! Why, 
 away back in the middle ages of the last centoory, 
 when there wa'n't any tickets and it was, 'Walk in 
 and welcome,' to the whole of Torbolton, there 
 was room a-plenty ; and that was even afore 
 them golfing linkses that stretch away now 
 a quarter mile down to tother road was 
 drained off. Then 'twas Dogwood Swamp, just 
 brimming over with bullfrogs and mud-turkles and 
 skeeters. My suzzy me!" she rubbed her chubby 
 wrists reminiscently. "How them skeeters did 
 enj'y themselves Feet Shampeter nights, when me 
 and Boldwood and the Hitchinses and the Millinses 
 and the Jack Buckinses clim Quinton Hill and 
 meandered about on them three campuses all set 
 round with tall ellums and the walls covered thick 
 with that shiny-leaved thanatopsis. No, no, Sa- 
 manthy," she wagged her head judicially, "guess 
 you'll have to cunjer up a better 'scuse than that." 
 
 But as little Mrs. Wells had apparently no 
 other excuse to offer, Mrs. Dodd went on : 
 
 "I've been in to see Miss Timpkins, and she 
 fetched out that invite, and we studied it from all
 
 88 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 points of the compass, upside down, back-end-to, 
 ampersand. But when we got through 'twas just 
 the same: 
 
 Miss Maria Timpkins, 
 
 Corner The Avenue and The Boulevard. 
 
 Only that and nothing more. With inside writ' 
 across the admission ticket, 'Compliments of Slater 
 Jones.' That's the boy that tended the furnace, 
 you know. And Miss Timpkins said I calculate 
 she wouldn't had it happen for a whole bucketful 
 of Tom Benton's mint drops p'raps she'd better 
 stay to home, sort of rebuke him by her absence, 
 as it were. But I said, 'For pity's sake, no ! We 
 ain't a-cutting off our nose to spite our face.' 
 And we was depending on her to report all the car- 
 ryings-on. She was 'most ready when I left, had 
 on her sky-blue frock with the lace frills, patent- 
 leather shoes, brandy-spandy new white gloves, 
 and was just going to pin on her hat, that 
 'Linger-longer-Lucy' one, wreathed around the 
 crown with forget-me-nots." She added as the 
 rustle of stiffly-starched petticoats sounded in the 
 corridor, "Here she comes now." 
 
 Ten minutes afterward, Miss Maria Timpkins, 
 having passed beneath the delighted inspection of 
 her little world, was sauntering up the avenue, 
 murmuring : 
 
 "It does seem frightfully peacocky of me to 
 parade myself like that before the old ladies, but 
 they like it, and I'm glad to do anything I can to
 
 THE INVITATION 89 
 
 make up for their disappointment at not going. 
 After all," she smiled good-humorecHy, "as the big 
 man said when his little wife beat him with the 
 flyflapper, 'It doesn't hurt me and it amuses 
 her!'" 
 
 "Looks fine, don't she?" observed Mrs. Dodd 
 from above. Then, "I tell you what, Samanthy 
 Wells, let's us celebrate this festal day, too! 
 Dress up in our best bibs and tuckers." She rose 
 ponderously. "I'll don my black grenadine. 
 You all say it's real becoming, and when I've 
 scraped together a few sou-markees and coaxed 
 my niece Lyddy from over to Holt to apply on a 
 shrimp-pink front, I'll take solid comfort in it my- 
 self." As she lifted down the gown from its hook, 
 she ordered, amiably, "You get on your satin- 
 striped nainsook polonay and your steel gray 
 morehair skirt and kite out and roust up the 
 others and tell them, 'Go and do likewise,' and to 
 rig out old Mrs. Farwell in the darned bobbinet 
 fisher mantle she was presented with on her four- 
 score and eleventh birthday. Then we'll all 
 promenade out on the top verandy and watch the 
 folks travel by, and show off our good clothes. 
 We ain't had a chanst to afore in a dog's age ! 
 Miss Timpkins, she's so retiring!" 
 
 Presently the inmates of the Home, having as- 
 sembled in the southwest front corner room, Mrs. 
 Wells sallied forth to summon Betty Macdonald 
 to open the upper veranda door. But as she 
 reached the stair-head, there on the floor was a
 
 90 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 square white envelope. She picked it up and 
 scurrying back, declared: 
 
 "Here's Miss Timpkins's invite! She must 
 have lost it out of her redicule. It's just as you 
 said, Sereny," scanning the address : 
 
 Miss Maria Timpkins, 
 
 Corner The Avenue and The Boulevard. 
 
 "I wonder," pensively, "did she forget her 
 ticket? If she did, they won't 'low her through 
 the gate. Mebbe I'd ought to inquire within." 
 And at Mrs. Dodd's nod of encouragement, the 
 little woman thrust her fingers inside the envelope 
 and wriggled them to and fro. "It ain't here," 
 she remarked. "But but " hesitatingly, "I 
 s'pose you seen both envelopes, Sereny?" 
 
 "There wa'n't only the one," asserted Mrs. 
 Dodd, but little Mrs. Wells was excitedly separat- 
 ing the edges of two envelopes, and now read from 
 the inner one, "Miss Maria Timpkins and and 
 Do you hear that, Sereny Dodd ? Not Miss Maria 
 Timpkins all by her lonesome, but Miss Maria 
 Timpkins and " 
 
 "And what?" demanded Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "And all- all!" continued Mrs. Wells in 
 rapturous accents. "All! Do you hear 
 that?" 
 
 "If 'tain't too much trouble, Samanthy Wells," 
 fumed Mrs. Dodd, "we ladies would like to know 
 all what?" 
 
 "It's all of us, Sereny!" exulted Mrs. Wells.
 
 THE INVITATION 91 
 
 "Miss Maria Tirnpkins and all the Ladies of the 
 Torbolton Home !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's jaw dropped. She sat quite 
 speechless, while Mrs. Wells lamented: 
 
 "0 me! O my! Slater Jones'll feel turrible 
 bad! Just turrible!" 
 
 The next instant Mrs. Dodd had rallied, and 
 was affirming, "My Boldwood, he always advised, 
 'Don't you never cry over spilled milk, Sereny, till 
 you're positive sure 'tis spilled.' And this," 
 sturdily, "ain't. Only the milk can's tipped a 
 mite sidewise and the leastest speck leaked out ! 
 'Tain't seven-thirty yet." She surveyed her com- 
 panions with satisfaction, and smoothing the 
 silken folds of her gown, rejoiced, "And here be 
 we ladies, with our lamps all trimmed and burn- 
 ing." 
 
 It was possibly a half-hour later that Miss 
 Timpkins, pacing sedately along the broad mall 
 that crosses the center campus of the college 
 grounds, was greeted by a stalwart young man, 
 "How do you do, Miss Timpkins ? Where are the 
 old ladies? It is so warm and pleasant to-night 
 and the Home is so near that I had hoped " 
 
 As the matron gazed, for a second not recogniz- 
 ing the young fellow in evening clothes as the boy 
 who tended the furnace, the boy in the dingy 
 patched jersey and the funny little cap with the 
 button on top like the grand panjandrum's, he 
 broke off and with an abrupt, "Excuse me !" strode 
 by her.
 
 92 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 Turning, Miss Timpkins beheld just outside the 
 Centennial Gates a plump old lady with curly 
 white hair, a plump old lady in black grenadine 
 to speak plainly, Mrs. Serena Dodd! Behind her, 
 huddled about old Mrs. Farwell who, adorned with 
 the "darned bobbinet fisher mantle," was sitting 
 very upright in her wheeled chair, were little Mrs. 
 Samantha Wells, Mrs. Demeter Ford, Miss 
 Sally Sloane and bashful Mrs. Prendergast, all 
 with confident eyes fixed upon their leader, as 
 she exhorted the grim policeman and waved a 
 square white envelope before his stern counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "It's all right, officer !" shouted Slater Jones. 
 "Let 'era in!" 
 
 Another moment, and Mrs. Dodd, advancing 
 toward the astonished matron, was proclaiming 
 loudly : 
 
 "We diskivered our invite, ma'am! 'Twas on 
 this inside envelope, you'n me never noted. So 
 we've stepped right along to the Feet Shampeter. 
 Nora and Betty each had a man-body in the 
 kitchen and they brung Mrs. Farwell clean down 
 to the concrete, and they're awful accommodating. 
 They're a-going to visit with Nora and Betty till 
 we get back, and then lug her up again. My 
 suzzy me ! But ain't this gee-lorious ! My Bold- 
 wood wouldn't never've known it." 
 
 Blissfully she regarded the Chinese lanterns 
 festooned in glowing lines from tree to tree, the 
 platforms built for this day only, decorated with
 
 THE INVITATION 93 
 
 green boughs and gorgeous bunting, the brilliant 
 banners marking every window, the scintillating 
 electric lights spelling out mystic words above 
 certain doors, and the throngs of pretty maidens 
 and gallant knights. 
 
 Then, as if by magic, several young fellows had 
 joined Slater Jones, and Miss Timpkins's wards, 
 each escorted by a cheerful youth, two pushing 
 old Mrs. Farwell's chair, were trudging off to 
 the merry strains of "rag-time," while Slater 
 Jones, Mrs. Dodd clinging fast to his arm, was 
 reassuring the matron : 
 
 "We'll have 'em back here safe and sound before 
 ten." 
 
 The clock in the college belfry was ringing out 
 that hour when a weary but happy little proces- 
 sion was traversing the western slope of Quinton 
 Hill, with Mrs. Dodd chuckling: 
 
 "I've had the elegantest time I ever had in all 
 my life ! Set right up on one of them piazzys 
 overlooking the front campus afore that 'Hi ! Hi ! 
 There!' fraternity that Slater Jones belongs to, 
 and et pink strawberry ice-cream and cunning 
 little pink frosted hearts and di'monds his ma 
 sent down all the long road from Possytwixet. 
 'Tain't no use a-talking, I ain't tasted nothing 
 like 'em since I made 'em myself; Bolflwood, he 
 wouldn't never have any but the best. She baked 
 'em special for us ladies, and," patting the black 
 silk pocket that swung at her side, "I've got one 
 apiece for all of your breakfasts to-morrow, not
 
 94 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 to mention a box of them checkerberry wafers to 
 treat Betty and Nora and them men-bodies this 
 very night." 
 
 "As for me," avowed Miss Sally Sloane, "I 
 testify there wa'n't no stint to nothing. 'Tenny- 
 rate, at the spreads my young man took me into. 
 I sampled," complacently, "chocolate eclairs, 
 angel's food, Oriental kisses, pineapple and 
 orange sherbet, vanilla ice-cream with crushed 
 ros'b'ries poured over it, lemonade and two good 
 cups of hot coffee with oodlins of yellow cream and 
 three lumps of sugar in each. 'Twas lucky for 
 Mrs. Prendergast I met her, for all she was doing 
 was saying, 'No, thank you!' to every mortal 
 thing. But I soon straightened that out, and she 
 finally done most's well's I did. Didn't you, Mrs. 
 Prendergast ?" 
 
 And as an embarrassed inarticulate response 
 followed from bashful Mrs. Prendergast, Miss 
 Sloane proceeded briskly: 
 
 "What'd you have, Mrs. Ford?" 
 
 "I couldn't say just what," answered Mrs. 
 Ford, "though 'twas all splendid. You see, my 
 escort set me out a chair by the brass band, and 
 the leader he blew the organ when I sang down 
 to the old First recollected me, and hopped down 
 and shook hands, and said he'd play anything I'd 
 choose. That's how we got 'The Gipsy's Warn- 
 ing,' and 'Hark! Hark! the Lark !' and ' 'Tis but a 
 Little Faded Flower,' and somehow," apologetic- 
 ally, "when there's music in the air, I don't seem to
 
 THE INVITATION 95 
 
 realize what I eat or what I drink or whatsoever 
 I do !" 
 
 "My beau," giggled little Mrs. Wells, "piloted 
 me up to the Jimmy Nation place, where they was 
 dancing, floating around zif they was puff-balls 
 on a southerly gale. I never danced none myself, 
 and never got so near folks dancing only oncet 
 afore. That was when Absalom and me went to 
 the Sons of Isaac's picnic, and they'd laid a nice 
 plank floor for them and their ladies to dance on, 
 and I stole up to peek at 'em when Absalom, he 
 ketched me and gripped me by the shoulder and 
 marched me away, gentle, but tumble firm ! And 
 I never saw the finish. 'Twas the Court Qua- 
 driddle they was dancing to-night. It looked 
 turrible easy," she hoppity-skipped joyously, 
 "and I'm 'most sure I could get the knack in no 
 time !" 
 
 "I never danced any, neither," piped up old 
 Mrs. Farwell, who was being trundled comfortably 
 along by Miss Timpkins. "It had kind of gone 
 by in my day, but my ma was a great dancer, 
 went to a frolic oncet when she was sixteen and 
 coming down with the measles ! Danced till day- 
 light did appear, and when she got home you 
 couldn't put a pinpoint down on her! And she'd 
 given 'em to thirty-nine people ! 
 
 "She was so discouraged she never tried it again 
 till after she was married, and then they mixed 
 me up with another baby, and pa and ma never 
 found it out till they reached home, and there was
 
 96 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 ten miles to ride back and exchange us ! For 
 though 'twas a dretful nice little baby she had," 
 Mrs. Farwell assured her listeners benignantly, 
 " 'twa'n't me ! But whilst pa and ma was gal- 
 loping along the lower road, the other couple had 
 started for our house by the upper one, so they 
 missed each other. Then they all put back hot- 
 foot, pa and ma along the upper road this time 
 and tother couple on the lower one, and Dear, 
 dear, dear!" yawned Mrs. Farwell. "How tired 
 I be!" 
 
 "Almost there," cheered Miss Timpkins ; and 
 sure enough, there was the Home looming up 
 through the darkness, with Betty and Nora and 
 the two "men-bodies" waiting to assist the 
 wanderers to their rooms ; and presently Mrs. 
 Dodd was exclaiming: 
 
 "My suzzy me, but this bed doos feel good! 
 And so long's we've been and gone and got back 
 from that Feet Shampeter, Sereny Dodd though 
 she ain't denying that Miss Timpkins was parlous 
 unnoticing ain't holding no grudge 'gainst noth- 
 ing nor nobody !"
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE FOURTH 
 
 JUNE had merged into July, and it was the 
 afternoon before the Fourth. The occasional 
 snapping of a torpedo and the sputtering of a 
 firecracker proclaimed that the celebration had 
 begun, and Mrs. Dodd was prophesying, lugubri- 
 ously : 
 
 "No sleep for us this night!" 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells nodded rueful acquiescence, 
 while Mrs. John Green, a distant connection of 
 Mrs. Dodd's from "over Ta'nton way" who had 
 driven in for a friendly call, gazed at the two 
 women benignly, and suggested: 
 
 "Why not ride back with me and spend the 
 night? We're quiet as kittens out there." 
 
 So it was that, several hours later, Mrs. Dodd 
 and Mrs. Wells were installed in the great four- 
 poster within the guest room of the old Green 
 homestead, with their hostess at the door bidding 
 "Good night and pleasant dreams !" 
 
 For a few minutes the rule of the Home, "Si- 
 lence after lights are out," held good. Then: 
 
 "Skeeters !" announced Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 She slapped her fat arms vehemently, and little 
 Mrs. Wells, also slapping, asserted in plaintive 
 
 tones : 
 
 97
 
 98 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "So they be! Though truth to tell, I ain't a 
 whit surprised, for Luelly, she owned up they 
 didn't lot much on screens. Liked to give the 
 skeeters their liberty to go out same's they came 
 in!" 
 
 "But," protested Mrs. Dodd, slap! slap! 
 "they don't go out." Slap! slap! "They stay 
 right here and eat Sereny Dodd up alive !" Slap ! 
 slap ! slap ! 
 
 "My, but I'm a silly Billy !" avowed Mrs. Wells, 
 sliding over the edge of the bed. "Clean forgot 
 what I fetched along for fear of your having a ill 
 turn. It's elegant for skeeters." 
 
 An instant more, and Mrs. Dodd was rejoicing, 
 "A-h-h-h-h! Camphire," while her roommate, 
 having clambered back into bed, composed herself 
 for slumber. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Dodd demanded, querulously, 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "What's what?" was the drowsy response. 
 
 "That planing-mill out in the pastur." 
 
 "Planing-mill !" Mrs. Wells repeated. "That 
 ain't no planing-mill, Sereny. Them's crickets 
 chirping !" 
 
 "Huh !" scoffed Mrs. Dodd. "Next thing you'll 
 be saying that bellering out yonder is grasshop- 
 pers !" 
 
 "I shan't either!" said Mrs. Wells. "'Cause 
 why ? 'Tain't ! Nor bumble-bees nor chipmunks 
 nor 'Go to the ant, thou sluggards !' For pity's
 
 NIGHT BEFORE THE FOURTH 99 
 
 sake, Sereny, ain't you ever been in the country 
 before?" 
 
 "Not overnight," confessed Mrs. Dodd. "Least- 
 wise not since they moved me an infant babe from 
 Chepiwanoxet. But you needn't get into such a 
 pucker all at once. What are them roarers, any- 
 how?" 
 
 "Frogs," answered Mrs. Wells, wearily. "Just 
 bull frogs croaking." 
 
 "Well, bullfrogs or bulls of Bashan, whichever 
 they be, they ain't," with emphasis, "had one speck 
 of bringing up !" pronounced Mrs. Dodd. "Hark 
 to 'em, a-mocking at me." She intoned in her 
 deep contralto, "Sereny Dodd ! Dodd ! Dodd ! 'Odd ! 
 'Odd! 'Odd! 'Dd! 'Dd! 'Dd!" adding pettishly, 
 "I s'pose that's a rosebug blethering under the 
 window?" 
 
 "Sho !" deprecated Mrs. Wells. "How you talk, 
 Sereny! That's a Eaty-did, Katy-didn't. But 
 what the poor dumb animal is hollering about is 
 one of the Mister Rees ! Howsomever, they be 
 powerful argyers, have it back and to, hours on 
 eend. But," cheerily, "they don't bother me any. 
 It's them whippoorwills mourning from the woods 
 beyond that tug at my heart-strings. Listen, 
 now. Whi-ip po-o-or wi-ill, whi-ip po-o-or wi-ill !" 
 she chanted. "Whi-ip po-o-or wi-ill!"' 
 
 "Ur-r-r-r-r!" shuddered Mrs. Dodd. "You 
 make me go all creepy-crawly, Samanthy Wells ! 
 'Sides, there's a billion and 'leven skeeters feast-
 
 100 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 ing on me this very second ! Gimme the camphire." 
 
 "Here 'tis," said Mrs. Wells, "and afore you 
 drop off, mebbe I'd ought to 'splain to you what 
 some of them noises be you ain't sensed yet. That 
 rasping zif someone was filing tenpenny nails is the 
 locusses. Sign 'twill be tumble hot to-morrow." 
 
 "They ought to be ashamed of theirselves !" 
 fumed Mrs. Dodd. "Hot enough now 'thout no 
 one making it any hotter! Whew!" She fanned 
 herself with the sheet, while Mrs. Wells continued 
 placidly : 
 
 "That whish-whacking against the house is 
 cause the wind's riz a mite and's banging them 
 branches about. I noted them when we first arriv, 
 for thinks I, how turrible handy for a robber to 
 shin up that elm tree " 
 
 "Robber!" gasped Mrs. Dodd. "Robber!" 
 
 "We're perfectly safe," soothed little Mrs. 
 Wells. "It's been a comfort to me all my life and 
 I'd as lieves as not pass it along to you robbers 
 don't never go where there's naught. My nephew, 
 Peter Rawdon, he says, 'Paste that in your bunnit, 
 Aunt Samanthy.' ' 
 
 "But tramps do," quavered Mrs. Dodd, "and 
 bears and wolves and " 
 
 "They can't!" Mrs. Wells spoke with authority. 
 "The town's started a woodyard to skeer off the 
 tramps. Luelly told me so. There ain't been 
 even a Teddy bear here since the new President 
 was nominated, and as for wolves, the one good 
 thing about them is they can't climb trees. Now,"
 
 NIGHT BEFORE THE FOURTH 101 
 
 coaxingly, "just you settle down and catch your 
 forty winks." 
 
 "Provided," groaned Mrs. Dodd, "these skeet- 
 ers leave me anything to catch 'em with ! Gimme 
 the camphire." 
 
 "Hadn't you better keep it, Sereny?" gently 
 asked Mrs. Wells, and her roommate conceded : 
 
 "P'r'aps. Then I'll know where 'tis." 
 
 The night wore on. Clutching the camphor 
 bottle to her breast, Mrs. Dodd dozed fitfully. 
 She heard the monotonous whir, whir, of the wind- 
 mill, the stamping of the iron-shod hoofs of the 
 horses in the stable and always the vicious keen- 
 ing of the mosquitoes. 
 
 Again she was wide awake, questioning, "What's 
 that?" The gray light of the morning was steal- 
 ing into the room ; in the east was the rosy prom- 
 ise of the dawn. "Cock-a-doodle-doo !" was filling 
 the air. 
 
 Mrs. Wells sat up in bed. "You poor thing !" 
 she laughed. "That's a rooster, the big head one 
 of all. I calc'late he's on the fence, kind of teach- 
 ing the little ones. I guess most of the spring 
 chickens this year was crowers. Listen to 'em 
 mimicking! Ain't they cute? And that quack- 
 ing is the duck trailing down to the pond, and 
 that outrageous squawking is guinea-hens. 
 There's cows out there crowding up to the bars, 
 mooing to be milked. That 'Baa, baa, black 
 sheep' is the dear little lambkins bleating for their 
 mas. The pigs is squealing for their breakfast,
 
 102 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 and that 'Hark from the tombs a doleful sound,' 
 is the pigeons cooing." 
 
 "That all?" inquired Mrs. Dodd, grimly. 
 
 "All I locate now," was the amiable rejoinder. 
 "But if you hear 'Gobble ! Gobble ! Gobble !' that's 
 turkeys. Geese, they hiss-s, so ! Can't you get 
 another nap, Sereny?" she went on, solicitously. 
 "It's too light for skeeters now." 
 
 "But just light enough for flies," grumbled 
 Mrs. Dodd. "And they have their liberty in and 
 out, too ! O me ! O my !" Then, "What's that?" 
 
 "That" was the distant rumbling of heavy 
 wheels, which grew louder as they approached the 
 house. There was the babel of many voices, the 
 measured tread of many feet, and a fife and drum 
 corps piped up merrily: 
 
 "If you get there before I do 
 Just tell 'em I'm a-coming, too!" 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells slipped from the bed, and pat- 
 tering to the window, peered out. "It's soldiers, 
 Sereny!" she reported, gleefully. "Soldiers, with 
 blue jackets and yellow belts and red pants ! And 
 they're carrying the Star-Spangled Banner !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd craned her neck. "I see it, too!" 
 she exulted. "The gold ball on the tippest point 
 of the pole and three bright stars and the upper 
 broad stripe! Oh, ain't it bee-yutiful ?" 
 
 "Nothing like it!" vaunted little Mrs. WeUs, 
 while Mrs. Dodd resumed happily: 
 
 "And now I can see it all! The whole on it!
 
 NIGHT BEFORE THE FOURTH 103 
 
 They're rising the hill! They've stopped, and 
 now they're marching into the field." 
 
 "There go John and the hired man and the dog 
 chasing after!" cried Mrs. Wells. "Oh, don't I 
 wisht I was dressed ! I'd chase too !" 
 
 Boom ! The window-sash rattled, the house 
 shook. 
 
 "What's that? What's that?" implored Mrs. 
 Dodd, frantically. 
 
 Boom ! The door was pushed open. Mrs. 
 Green beamed at them from the threshold. "Dear 
 me !" she exclaimed. "Did it wake you ?" Boom ! 
 "That's too bad !" Boom ! "It's the 'Up Guards 
 and at 'em !' from Ta'nton. Every year they haul 
 the old cannon we had for the coast defense in 
 1812 to the top of our hill and welcome in Inde- 
 pendence Day." Boom! "You won't mind it af- 
 ter your good night's rest, though." Boom ! 
 "They only salute twenty-four times." Boom! 
 Boom ! She was gone. 
 
 Boom ! Boom ! Bo-o-om-m-m ! Half a dozen 
 window panes fell tinkling to the floor, the house 
 reeled on its foundations, the hills reverberated to 
 the thunder of the explosion. 
 
 "My soul be on thy guard !" moaned Mrs. 
 Dodd. 
 
 From the road came a stentorian shout, 
 " 'Tain't nothing! There ain't no one hurt. 
 A spark flew into the powder barrel and blew 
 it up skyhigh. But don't you care. Sim and 
 me is going over to the armory to get some
 
 104* SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 more to finish up with. We'll be back soon!" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd thrust a pair of plump feet over 
 the side of the bed, and Mrs. Wells, pale and trem- 
 bling, was assisting her in the perilous descent 
 from the four-poster. 
 
 "I shan't wait for 'em!" declared Mrs. Dodd, 
 sinking into the huge Martha Washington chair. 
 "Samanthy Wells, where's my stockings?" 
 
 "But you can't go !" remonstrated Mrs. Green, 
 as the two women appeared before her. "John 
 and Sim have taken both horses " 
 
 "If there ain't any 'commodation for us to ride," 
 broke in Mrs. Dodd, stonily, "we'll walk! And 
 when I can't walk any further, I'll go on my 
 bended knees!" 
 
 Distressed and disturbed, Mrs. Green followed 
 her guests down the path to the gate. Then a 
 look of relief overspread her face as she espied, 
 clattering along the highway, a belated milk- 
 wagon. It was but a moment's work to hail the 
 driver and state the case, and soon Mrs. Dodd was 
 ensconced beside him with little Mrs. Wells perched 
 on a hassock at her feet, both waving a gay good- 
 by, and calling back, "Remember our love to 
 John !" 
 
 The bells of Torbolton had just rung eleven 
 o'clock. Every one from the vicinity of the Home 
 for Indigent Females had gone down-town to view 
 the military parade, and a Sabbath day calm 
 reigned. Mrs. Dodd, her curly white head re- 
 posing on the back of the big Boston "rocker,"
 
 NIGHT BEFORE THE FOURTH 105 
 
 was slumbering peacefully, while little Mrs. Wells, 
 sitting in her small sewing-chair, was meditating. 
 
 Suddenly the little woman giggled. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's black eyes popped open. "What's 
 that?" she queried. 
 
 "It's me!" said Mrs. Wells, giggling again. 
 "I've been cudgeling my brains about what your 
 cousin Luelly could have meant by 'quiet as kit- 
 tens.' For Luelly's honest as the sunshine, and 
 wouldn't tell a wrong story for a mint of money, 
 and I calc'late I've tracked it out at last. Rec- 
 olleck the po'try in the Fifth Reader 'bout the 
 cats, Sereny?" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd stared. "Cats! What cats?" 
 
 "The cats Luelly must have meant," said little 
 Mrs. Wells, smiling. "Kilkenny cats! Kilkenny 
 kittens! See, Sereny?"
 
 CHAPTER XH 
 THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE 
 
 THE star of Sirius was in the ascendant, in 
 other words dog-days had come, but on this partic- 
 ular afternoon in late July the fog that had hung 
 in the air throughout the morning had cleared 
 away, and now from a blue and perfect sky the 
 sun shone forth, sending arrows of light through 
 the mist-wet foliage of the great elms that 
 guarded the Home and flashing into a myriad 
 rainbows the spray of the tiny fountain that 
 played merrily on the green lawn beneath. 
 
 "Hi! Hi! Hi, there!" 
 
 That was Betty Macdonald, a white cap on her 
 ruddy locks, and snowy apron tied neatly about 
 her trim waist, dashing down the wide graveled 
 path and frantically waving a freckled hand to- 
 ward the approaching electric car. 
 
 Behind her trailed Mrs. Demeter Ford, bashful 
 Mrs. Prendergast, little Mrs. Wells and Miss Sally 
 Sloane, while in the rear hovered Miss Maria 
 Timpkins, shooing forward the company as one 
 might shoo a flock of hens, and murmuring, agi- 
 tatedly : 
 
 "We'll lose that car, sure's fate! I know we 
 shall!" Then she exhorted, shrilly, "Call again, 
 Betty. Call louder!" And thus adjured, Betty 
 
 uttered another ear-splitting shriek: 
 106
 
 THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE 107 
 
 "Hi! Hi! Hi-i-i-i-i!" 
 
 "Take your time! Take your time, ladies!" 
 shouted the conductor from the platform. 
 
 "What's the place and who are they?" queried 
 a tall young man on the back seat. 
 
 "It's our Old Ladies' Home and they're the old 
 ladies," was the reply, and as the motorman 
 twisted the brake, the conductor sprang off and 
 greeted them: 
 
 "Howdy-do! Howdy-do, ladies! Upsy daisy, 
 grandma !" With one effort of his stalwart arms 
 he lifted little Mrs. Wells bodily to the running- 
 board, in a trice had bundled the other women 
 into the car, and climbing back and ringing the 
 bell, remarked, genially: 
 
 "A splendid lot of old ladies in that Home and 
 I know every one of them by name and fame. 
 There's been the top of the town among them be- 
 fore now, and don't you forget it ! But," break- 
 ing off, "I wonder where Mrs. Dodd is." 
 
 He stepped along to the matron's side, demand- 
 ing, "Where's Mrs. Dodd? Don't like to see her 
 left out!" 
 
 "Oh, she wasn't left out," responded Miss Timp- 
 kins. "She just wouldn't come!" And being en- 
 grossed in the distribution of nickels for her 
 charges that each might enjoy the 'pleasure of 
 paying her own fare, she said no more until after 
 the conductor had returned from his round. Then 
 she went on : 
 
 "These new electrics are so much higher than
 
 108 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 the old horse-cars that she lames her knees fright- 
 fully every time she rides on them. Didn't get 
 down to her meals for three days after her last 
 trip! And when I invited her this noon we're 
 all going down to Ageram Point to the four 
 o'clock bake she said no, that she knew when she 
 was licked ! And she'd stay home and keep house 
 with old Mrs. Farwell. 
 
 "But," opening her capacious holdall and dis- 
 playing a shining tin can, "we're doing our best 
 for her. I'm taking this to bring some chowder 
 in, and Mrs. Wells has brown paper and string 
 in her pockets for clam cakes. Mrs. Dodd loves 
 clam cakes !" 
 
 The conductor shook his head. "Good far's 
 it goes," he admitted. "But I expect that the old 
 lady would like a whole clam dinner and all the 
 fixin's." 
 
 He made his way back to the platform, and 
 glaring at a pair of prancing bays and a glit- 
 tering victoria just passing, grumbled, "Pesky 
 shame! Folks exercising fat lazy horses before 
 empty carriages, and nice old ladies sitting at 
 home just pining to get somewhere!" 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked the tall young 
 man with interest. 
 
 "They're going to Ageram Point to the four 
 o'clock bake," answered the conductor, "but Mrs. 
 Dodd wouldn't come, and I tell you I miss her! 
 Miss Timpkins thinks she knows why Mrs. Dodd 
 wouldn't come, but I know I know! You see the
 
 THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE 109 
 
 old lady's pretty sizable, and last time she rode 
 with me I had a tough time getting her aboard. 
 But I did it, and she was all comfortably settled 
 when a crittur settin' right where you're settin' 
 now winked and grinned at me and said, 'Say, I 
 don't have to go to no circus to see a baby ele- 
 phant!' I knew Mrs. Dodd heard him for she 
 colored up red's a beet, and I snapped him up, 
 'Naw ! And I don't have to go to no circus to see 
 a jackass!' Mrs. Dodd was mighty grateful, and 
 squeezed my hand good when I got her out. Hurt 
 feelings is a sight harder to bear than hurt knees," 
 then with a softening of his tone, he added, "I 
 like old ladies. My grandma brought me up." 
 
 "So did mine!" averred the young man. "Well," 
 rising to his feet, "here's where I leave you." 
 
 Half an hour later, Mrs. Serena Dodd, rocking 
 to and fro beside the window in her room, was 
 startled by the appearance of Betty Macdonald 
 at her door, announcing: 
 
 "A visitor for you, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd dropped the fan that she had been 
 resignedly plying. "A visitor!" she exclaimed. 
 "A visitor! Why, 'tain't visiting day!" 
 
 "Sure not !" agreed Betty, with amiability. 
 "That's what I told him. But he " 
 
 "A him ! A he !" repeated Mrs. Dodd: 
 
 "Yes, ma'am!" said Betty. "A him! A he! 
 With gray eyes and a clean shaven chin with a 
 dimple in it. A lovely young fellow ! And when 
 I told him 'twa'n't visiting day, said he, *I can't
 
 110 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 help that. I'm from out of town and must see 
 Mrs. Dodd.' " 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Dodd, glancing at the mir- 
 ror, "it's lucky I dressed up in my black grena- 
 dine even if I did stay to home. But my breast- 
 pin's on crooked. You straighten it before you 
 let him up." 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Timpkins and her little band 
 had sailed happily down the bay, landed at Age- 
 ram Point, and were trudging up the wharf to 
 where rosy rotund Colonel Pepperlee, the proprie- 
 tor of the point, was roaring : 
 
 "Right this way ! Right this way ! Best bake 
 on the bay ! Only fifty cents a plate, I say !" 
 
 He halted in his "patter" as the group of 
 women paused before him, and muttered, "Four 
 old ladies in bunnits and a middling young one in 
 hat and feathers. Now then, Pepperlee, tact, 
 tact!" 
 
 He smiled ingratiatingly, his white teeth gleam- 
 ing, and swept off his low-crowned slouch hat in a 
 profound bow to the matron. 
 
 "Is this Miss Timpkins and her ladies from Tor- 
 bolton?" 
 
 "Why ye-es," hesitated Miss Timpkins, "but " 
 
 The colonel broke in hurriedly. 
 
 "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," he said. "Your 
 bake won't be ready for quite a spell yet, and my 
 advice is for you all to go right over to the piazza 
 and sit tight and take it easy. Don't worry 
 about nothing. I'll keep my eye on you and let
 
 THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE 111 
 
 you know when the dinner's served. No, no," as 
 Miss Timpkins produced her purse, "we'll arrange 
 that later." 
 
 And with another bow, he restored his hat to 
 his head and resumed his rhythmic harangue. 
 
 "My, but ain't he curchus !" gurgled little Mrs. 
 Wells, trotting beside the matron toward the 
 spot indicated by Colonel Pepperlee. 
 
 "He's courteous enough," assented Miss Timp- 
 kins, warily, "but how on earth did he know 
 us?" 
 
 Miss Sally Sloane bridled. "Well, now, we ain't 
 quite so no-account as all that!" she commented. 
 "There's more know us than we know," compla- 
 cently. "We're public characters, Miss Timp- 
 kins !" And pluming themselves on this solution 
 of the riddle, the company waited patiently dur- 
 ing the next three-quarters of an hour. 
 
 At last there was wafted to their nostrils the 
 mingled aroma of steaming rockweed and clams, 
 and Mrs. Wells sniffed exultantly. 
 
 "The bake's open!" she piped. "I smell it! 
 Ain't it dee-licious?" 
 
 With one accord the women started for the 
 big dining-hall with its long bare trestle-boards 
 flanked on both sides by rows of round unpainted 
 wooden stools, but they were intercepted by Col- 
 onel Pepperlee, more smiling, more "curchus" than 
 ever. 
 
 "Not there! Not there! This way, if you 
 please!" And the women, bewildered but docile
 
 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 to the voice of man, followed the colonel through 
 an adjacent door. 
 
 They were in a private dining-room. Before 
 them was a table spread with a table-cloth, a linen 
 table-cloth, as was later established by Miss Sally 
 Sloane's rubbing a fold of the material betwixt 
 thumb and forefinger. With napkins ! Real 
 napkins, not squares of pink, green and yellow 
 tissuepaper as in the public hall, scalloped along 
 the edges, it is true, but nevertheless, only tissue 
 paper. Real chairs, too ! chairs with cane seats 
 and good high backs, in one of which Miss Sally 
 promptly deposited her plump person, breathing 
 gratefully : 
 
 "Praise be! I'd rather have half a din- 
 ner with a whole back than a whole dinner with 
 none !" 
 
 But the others held aloof, little Mrs. Wells, 
 clutching at the matron's arm and warning her 
 excitedly, "This ain't any fifty cent dinner, Miss 
 Timpkins. It's a seventy-fiver! My nephew 
 Peter Rawdon " and Miss Timpkins spoke has- 
 tily: 
 
 "It must be a mistake, sir ! I can't pay " 
 
 "You don't pay a penny," reassured the 
 colonel. "Not a penny! It's a treat." 
 
 Miss Timpkins gasped, Mrs. Wells gasped, they 
 all gasped. 
 
 But Mrs. Wells was the first to recover speech, 
 and exclaimed, "A treat ! A treat ! Do you 
 hear, ladies? Colonel Pepperlee's treating us!"
 
 THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE 113 
 
 and beaming joyously upon the colonel, she bobbed 
 a courtesy. 
 
 "Thank you, Colonel ! Thank you kindly !" she 
 declared. 
 
 "Not at all ! Not at all !" said Colonel Pepper- 
 lee, his rosy face paling in consternation. 
 " 'Twa'n't me. 'Twas an order from the city. 
 A telephone order." 
 
 A chug and a whir outside interrupted the 
 colonel; he almost ran to the door. There was 
 an anxious question, a satisfactory reply, and the 
 next instant he ushered in a tall young man, a 
 young man with pleasant gray eyes and a clean 
 shaven dimpled chin, escorting an old lady, in a 
 black grenadine gown, a black chip bonnet 
 trimmed with pink rosebuds, and a lace veil swing- 
 ing over one shoulder, a ponderous old lady with 
 curly white hair and sparkling black eyes and a 
 countenance aglow with happiness and heat. 
 
 "Why-ee! It's Sereny!" cried Mrs. Wells. 
 "Sereny Dodd, how come you here?" 
 
 "In an automobile!" affirmed Mrs. Dodd, rap- 
 turously. "In an automobile ! A lovely little low 
 one ! I slid into it slick's a whistle ! 'Twas him," 
 nodding toward her companion, "brought me. We 
 flew like old Nick was chasing us, and I wa'n't 
 scared a mite." 
 
 She surveyed the table joyously. "My suzzy 
 me ! Ain't it elegant ? Cowcumbers and cracked 
 ice, Bermudy onions and celery, plum brown bread 
 and white biscuit ! Ah-h-h-h !" Mrs. Dodd would
 
 114. 
 
 have smacked her lips had it been qmte ladylike. 
 
 "And it's all my party ! He said so. Set you 
 down, ladies, and make yourselves to home," hos- 
 pitably. "Leastwise," with a glance at Miss Sally 
 Sloane, "those of you as ain't done it already ! 
 Samanthy Wells, you quickstep it over here. 
 Miss Timpkins, you look out for Mrs. Prender- 
 gast. She's so bashful she won't get a mouthful 
 'less you tend to her. Now, now, now!" severely, 
 perceiving that the matron was about to speak. 
 "This ain't any time for probing into things. I 
 want my clam dinner! Old Mrs. Farwell's all 
 right," reassuringly, "sleeping like a dormouse, 
 and Betty and Nora is going to set with her, one 
 or the other, every minute till we all get back." 
 
 Then the waiters swarmed in, and it was hot 
 clams here and hot clams there and more hot 
 clams. There was a clatter of dishes and hubbub 
 of tongues, and presently Mrs. Dodd's astonished 
 accents soared high above the din, as she gazed 
 amazed and dismayed at the young man beside 
 her: 
 
 "You poor lamb ! Where were you raised ? 
 Massy sakes ! You don't eat clams with a fork ! 
 Just you watch me. You open the shell, so. You 
 pull out the clam, so. You dip it into melted but- 
 ter, so. And you bite it off, so. Now you try." 
 
 And beneath the sympathetic contemplation of 
 six pairs of eyes, her pupil endeavored to show 
 that he had acquired the art. 
 
 There were chowder and lobsters and clam frit-
 
 THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE 115 
 
 ters and broiled blue-fish and fried tautog, green 
 corn, watermelon, Indian pudding and whipped 
 cream, pineapple sherbet and little frosted cakes. 
 
 "To think, oh, to think," sighed Miss Sally 
 Sloane, "of having money enough to pay for a 
 feast like this!" 
 
 She carefully polished her sherbet saucer with 
 a scrap of one of the little frosted cakes of which 
 she had eaten a greater number than she would 
 have wished to have counted. Then peering over 
 her glasses at the long expanse of table, she 
 whispered to Mrs. Demeter Ford a triumphant, 
 "We've et every speck of the sherbet, but," dis- 
 appointedly, "there's a round dozen of them dar- 
 ling cakes left yet !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd, too, had been eying the table. "Sa- 
 manthy Wells !" she cried. "Your ma and mine 
 taught us always to remember the absent. Where's 
 that brown paper and string you were so brash 
 about?" 
 
 The boom of the sunset gun floated over the 
 water. Chairs scraped back and all trooped out 
 to the veranda to find beside the little runabout 
 that had whisked Mrs. Dodd and the unknown 
 down from the city, Colonel Pepperlee's own two- 
 seated car and the colonel himself to drive it. 
 Yes, indeed ! It was a snug fit, but would not you 
 be willing to be packed in like a sardine if you 
 had never had an automobile ride in your life be- 
 fore and never expected to again? 
 
 The horns tooted gloriously, the cars sped
 
 116 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 along the boulevard, dived through the east en- 
 trance to the park, whirled about the lakes, and 
 popping out of the west entrance, raced down the 
 avenue, and crossing the lower bridge puffed up 
 Quinton Hill to where Betty Macdonald was wait- 
 ing at the gate. As the maid put up her hand to 
 assist Mrs. Dodd to alight, the old lady thrust 
 into it a brown paper parcel tied about with hem- 
 pen string and bulging richly with a round dozen 
 of frosted cakes. "For old Mrs. Farwell and you 
 and Nora!" chuckled Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 A moment later she was toiling up the path 
 upon Betty's supporting arm, while Miss Timp- 
 kins, balancing herself, one foot on sea and one 
 on land, that is to say, one foot on the motor car 
 step and the other on the concrete, and staring 
 after the other car that had just disappeared 
 about the corner, ejaculated, in dismay: 
 
 "Why, he's gone! Mrs. Dodd, Mrs. Dodd, 
 who is he?'* 
 
 But panting Mrs. Dodd had no breath with 
 which to answer, and it was not until seated in her 
 rocking chair, her bonnet and veil off, a hassock 
 beneath her feet, and a glass of good cold water 
 disposed of, that she rejoined, composedly: 
 
 "Don't know. Never asked him." 
 
 "Don't know ! You never asked him !" The 
 matron stood aghast. "You went without even 
 knowing his name!" 
 
 "Yes, I did!" retorted Mrs. Dodd. "He came 
 here and said he'd seen you on the trolley and had
 
 THE FOUR O'CLOCK BAKE 117 
 
 come to take me to the bake. That was recom- 
 mend enough for me, and I went. O me ! O my !" 
 ecstatically, "didn't we have a bee-yutiful time? 
 He was a turrible nice young fellow, but I couldn't 
 tell you who he was any more'n the man in the 
 moon."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE MAPLE SUGAR CAKES 
 
 IT was the middle of August, and Mrs. Dodd 
 was affirming, lugubriously, "Most three weeks 
 since any thing's happened in this Home. What 
 with all the board out of town and my niece Lyddy 
 from over to Holt and your- nephew Peter Raw- 
 don, likewise, I don't 'spect there's any chance of 
 it neither." She groaned aloud. 
 
 A moment later there rattled up the avenue 
 a red delivery wagon; it halted before the Home, 
 the driver raced up the steps, the bell rang im- 
 peratively, and little Mrs. Wells, peeping from the 
 window, announced, "Great Northern 'Spress, 
 Sereny !" 
 
 Some one was mounting the stairs. "Mebbe, 
 oh, mebbe " whispered Mrs. Wells. And almost 
 immediately, Betty Macdonald was standing at 
 the threshold, proclaiming: 
 
 "A package for you, Mrs. Dodd, from Miss 
 Lydia Barren, Hillcrest, New Hampshire " 
 
 "That's where my niece Lyddy from over to 
 Holt's visiting," exclaimed Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "And one for you, Mrs. Wells, from Mr. Peter 
 Rawdon, Mountain View, Vermont." 
 
 "My nephew Peter likes Vermont best," chirped 
 
 Mrs. Wells, proudly. 
 
 118
 
 THE MAPLE SUGAR CAKES 119 
 
 Betty lingered. "Want me to undo 'em?" she 
 volunteered. 
 
 "No, thank you, Betty," chorused the two 
 women with dignity, but an instant after the with- 
 drawal of the maid, scissors were produced, there 
 was swift cutting of cords, unwrapping of paper 
 and lifting of box-covers, followed by rapturous 
 "Ohs !" and "Ahs !" 
 
 "If there's one thing more'n another topside 
 this green airth that I dote on," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Dodd, "it's six cunning little heart-shaped cakes 
 of maple sugar like these, with butternut meats 
 strewed thick through 'em !" 
 
 And little Mrs. Wells echoed, happily: 
 
 "Me, too, Sereny ! Only my six are round, 
 with scalloped aidges and the butternut meats is 
 sticking out all over like porkypine quills !" She 
 pinched off a scallop, and popping it into her 
 mouth, murmured ecstatically, "M-m-m! M-m-m! 
 M-m-m !" and again "M-m-m !" 
 
 And Mrs. Dodd, across the lightstand, pinched 
 off the point from one of the heart-shaped cakes, 
 popped it into her mouth, and in her turn, mur- 
 mured : 
 
 "M-m-m ! M-m-m ! M-m-m !" and again, 
 "M-m-m!" 
 
 Joyously and in unison the two women munched, 
 until at last Mrs. Dodd, surveying the remainder 
 of the cakes, made a bold proposition. "Saman- 
 thy," said she, "s'pose you and me hide the rest 
 of 'em! Tuck 'em away somewhere out of sight,
 
 120 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 and eat 'em ourselves when we get good and 
 ready." 
 
 Little Mrs. Wells stared, her eyes grew rounder 
 and bigger and bluer, her cheeks flushed. 
 "Why-ee, Sereny!" she protested. "Don't that 
 sound turrible turrible " she paused, confused, 
 "so to sa-ay " 
 
 "Piggy?" supplemented Mrs. Dodd, unabashed. 
 "Yes, piggy! Well, let's be piggy for oncet in 
 our lives and enj'y the experience." 
 
 But her roommate, unconvinced, objected. 
 "No, no, Sereny! That won't ever do!" Then 
 her face brightened, her tone changed, she laughed 
 aloud. "P'raps you're right, Sereny!" She 
 opened the upper drawer of her bureau. "I can 
 stow mine in here, and you can poke yours under- 
 neath the lightstand! 'Twill be easy for you to 
 get at !" She was about to seat herself, when 
 Mrs. Dodd remarked: 
 
 "So long's you're up, I wonder if you'd mind 
 going downstairs and hinting to Betty Macdonald 
 that it wouldn't be no harm if next week she 
 didn't iron my capstrings quite as crooked as a 
 ram's horns?" 
 
 "Not a mite," responded Mrs. Wells, amiably, 
 "and whilst I'm down, I'll run out and get a 
 breath of fresh air." 
 
 "So do!" urged Mrs. Dodd. "And take your 
 time." She lunged forward in the big Boston 
 "rocker," gaining her feet with the sudden impe- 
 tus. "I'll visit a spell with old Mrs. Farwell."
 
 THE MAPLE SUGAR CAKES 121 
 
 She ambled from the room and presently Mrs. 
 Wells, too, was gone. 
 
 It was the next morning, breakfast was over, 
 and Mrs. Dodd, comfortably ensconced in her 
 chair beside the window, was placidly contemplat- 
 ing the little woman opposite. "Time for another 
 maple-sugar cake, ain't it, Samanthy?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, indeedy!" replied Mrs. Wells. "But 
 'tain't worth while hauling out both boxes, Sereny. 
 Besides I've got my mouth all made up for one of 
 them dear little cunning hearts of yourn !" 
 
 "Same here!" chuckled Mrs. Dodd, "only I'm 
 honing for one of them rounds with scalloped 
 aidges. You get 'em right out." 
 
 Mrs. Wells rose reluctantly, moved slowly to 
 the bureau, drew out the upper drawer, peered 
 within, fumbled vaguely about, then turned and 
 gazed mournfully at her companion. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd's benignant expression faded into 
 one of anxiety. "What " 
 
 "I s'pose," interrupted Mrs. Wells, desperately, 
 "I s'pose I might as well own up first as last ! I 
 ain't got one speck of maple sugar to my name ! 
 Not a crumb ! Neither scallops nor middles ! 
 Not anything!" 
 
 "None left !" cried Mrs. Dodd, astounded. 
 "None left, Samanthy !" 
 
 " 'Tain't any use a-carrying on !" avowed Mrs. 
 Wells, very pale, but very determined. "I gave 
 'em away ! That's what !" 
 
 "But you said "
 
 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "You said," corrected Mrs. Wells, "s'pose we 
 hid 'em and et 'em ourselves when we got good 
 and ready ! And it was a fine scheme for them as 
 could, but I couldn't. Massy sakes, I don't be- 
 lieve it was one-half hour by the clock before I'd 
 begun distributing. First off I salved over your 
 message to Betty Macdonald by presenting her 
 with one of the rounds. She hadn't seen any since 
 she came out from Pictou last spring." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd grasped her pudgy left thumb with 
 her pudgy left hand. "One !" she said, resignedly. 
 
 "And Nora O'Hara was watching just as inter- 
 terested. Poor girl, she hadn't even ever heard 
 of such a thing ! They don't grow neither maple 
 sugar nor butternuts in Roscommon." 
 
 "Two is Nora." Mrs. Dodd laid a sturdy fore- 
 finger beside her thumb. 
 
 "And when I clipped it out into the yard after 
 that breath of fresh air I mentioned to you," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Wells, "I met Sandy McAllister 
 mowing the grass, and he touched his cap so re- 
 spectful and said, 'How do, Mrs. Wells? How's 
 Mrs. Dodd to-day?' ' She paused a moment and 
 added dreamily, "Did you ever mark, Sereny, how 
 we set store by folks who don't ever forget our 
 names? And so " 
 
 Mrs. Dodd nodded. "Thimble finger, three," 
 she stated. 
 
 "And as I traveled down toward the gate, if 
 there scooting along the avenue, wa'n't the elec- 
 tric car with the one I call my conductor on it, he
 
 THE MAPLE SUGAR CAEES 123 
 
 that whisks me aboard zif I was a bag of live geese 
 feathers, and I hailed him to oncet. He jumped 
 off, and said I, 'Love maple sugar?' and said he, 
 'Yes, ma'am!' and said I, 'Here's some!' and a 
 tickleder man you never see. His teeth was in it 
 before he'd pulled the car bell, and he and the 
 motorman I sent him my last cake waved all 
 the way down the hill till I was all a-trimble, I 
 was that fearful they'd skip the track." 
 
 "Ring finger, four; little finger, five," counted 
 Mrs. Dodd. Her hands dropped limply into her 
 lap, while Mrs. Wells, sinking into her low wicker 
 chair, went on: 
 
 " 'Course I wouldn't been quite so free passing 
 'em out if I hadn't known you had plenty and to 
 spare. You see just how 'twas. I depended on 
 you, Sereny." 
 
 Mrs. Dodd fixed aggrieved black eyes upon the 
 little woman. "Then, Samanthy Wells," she 
 spoke with decision, "all I've got to say is that 
 you've depended on a broken reed! And I s'pose 
 I might's well own up first 's last. I ain't got 
 a cake of maple sugar left to my name! Not a 
 single identical one. Not ary crumb. I gave 
 mine away. / couldn't help it. You ain't the 
 only crittur with that kind of a natur'. Why, 
 I'm pretty positive that 'twa'n't a half .of half an 
 hour before Sereny Dodd had begun distributing. 
 Though to be up and down honest," she confessed, 
 candidly, " 'twa'n't my intention to do as I did. 
 Leastwise not so slambang quick. But the
 
 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 tongue, Samanthy," she wagged her head dole- 
 fully, "the tongue! Fact is, I bragged. I 
 bragged to old Mrs. Farwell what splendid maple 
 sugar they manufactured up in the Granite 
 State, and she answered right up in her soft way 
 that Maine maple sugar was better, Maine butter- 
 nut meats was better, and Maine's motto was 'I 
 lead.' She was sot as sot about it. And I stiv- 
 ered straight back and got the maple sugar cakes 
 to prove it wa'n't so." 
 
 "Did you prove it?" asked Mrs. Wells, eagerly. 
 
 "No, I didn't ! She et a cake, and she smacked 
 her lips, and said right over again, gentle's a 
 turtle-dove, Maine maple sugar was better, Maine 
 butternuts meats was better, and State o' Maine 
 was still a-leading. And you can't argy only just 
 so much with a lady ninety-two last birthday. 
 And square in the midst of it, in marched Sally 
 Sloane, and naterally I gave her a cake. And 
 after her Mrs. Ford, and I gave her another. 
 They relished 'em something amazing. And by 
 that time I'd sort of got my hand in, and I hunted 
 up Mrs. Prendergast. She's so bashful she 
 couldn't seem to sense first off that the maple 
 sugar heart was for her, but soon's she did, she 
 was perfect joy. Why, when she was a little tot 
 in pantalets and low-necked, short-sleeved frocks 
 her pa had a maple sugar orchard, and outside 
 her chamber window where she could pick and eat 
 any hour of the day or night, climb out on 'em 
 too, if she took the notion, was much as a dozen
 
 THE MAPLE SUGAR CAKES 125 
 
 great hahnsome butternut trees. Then I scud, 
 and there out in the gallery was Miss Timpkins, 
 Miss Maria Timpkins, the matron of this Home, 
 Samanthy ! She that's been a mother, a more'n 
 mother to us ladies !" 
 
 "O me! O my!" lamented little Mrs. Wells. 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 "Do! Do! Why, I gave her a maple sugar 
 cake! That's what I done! Punted up to her 
 like I was a drum-major, and presented her with 
 the very last one of them cunning little maple 
 sugar hearts strewed thick all through with but- 
 ternut meats zif I'd meant to from the beginning, 
 and had four thousand more behind 'em. .Yes, 
 sir-ree, bob !" 
 
 She beamed at little Mrs. Wells, who sighed 
 blissfully. "Well, that's all right. My, I 
 wouldn't had Miss Timpkins slighted for " she 
 glanced through the window toward the river bank 
 "for Roger Williams's Rock with Roger himself 
 sculped out on it, picket fence and all thrown in !" 
 She extracted from the upper bureau drawer the 
 box that had held the maple sugar rounds with 
 scalloped edges and declared, "Empty as a last 
 year's bird's nest!" And Mrs. Dodd, producing 
 from beneath the lightstand a similar box, 
 amended : 
 
 "Empty as two last year's bird's nests, Saman- 
 thy ! Howsomever," cheerily, "we've had lots of 
 fun out of 'em." 
 
 "And now," proceeded Mrs. Wells, "we must
 
 126 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 mind our manners. Last night Nora O'Hara ex- 
 changed that two-cent postage stamp I've been 
 cherishing for time of need for two one-centers 
 at the 'pothecary's, and I'll donate you one. 
 And Betty fetched me two picture postal cards 
 that come with the last baking powder tins, 
 'Pancake Island Viewed from the Railroad 
 Bridge,' and 'The Dumplings at High Tide.' 
 Take your ch'ice, Sereny." She placed the cards 
 before her roommate and directed, "You write, 
 'Thank you, ma'am,' and I'll write, 'Thank you, 
 sir,' and we'll both write, 'They tasted dee-li- 
 cious !' "
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 MRS. DODD'S TEN-CENT PIECE 
 
 "SEVENS! That's miles too big!" averred Mrs. 
 Dodd, as she eyed disconsolately the pair of Con- 
 gress gaiters that lay in her lap. "Six and a 
 half is my size." 
 
 "If you'd only try them on !" urged Miss Timp- 
 kins, but Mrs. Dodd shook her head. 
 
 " 'Tain't no manner of use," she stated, firmly. 
 
 The matron looked around helplessly. "I 
 don't see how I can do one thing to-day." Her 
 eyes fell on little Mrs. Wells and a new idea pre- 
 sented itself. "I wonder," she addressed the lit- 
 tle woman, "if you wouldn't like to ride downtown 
 with Betty on the car it's her afternoon out 
 and exchange the shoes at the Hub store. Betty'd 
 go in with you and I'd arrange the rest by tele- 
 phone. You could come home alone?" tenta- 
 tively. And Mrs. Wells almost danced for joy 
 as she agreed : 
 
 "Yes, indeedy, ma'am !" 
 
 And thus it was on this pleasant day in early 
 September that Mrs. Wells, with the number six 
 and a half Congress gaiters under her arm, was 
 pacing homeward along Abbey Street, the main 
 thoroughfare of the town, communing with her- 
 self: 
 
 127
 
 128 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "That last ten-cent piece Sereny's niece Lyddy 
 from over to Holt give her," she murmured, 
 "burned in her pocket like a living fire-coal; she 
 said so! And she just had to get rid of it, she 
 said so! And 'The laborer's worthy of his hire,' 
 she said that, too !" 
 
 A moment later Mrs. Wells halted beneath a 
 gilded mortar and pestle, and entering the drug 
 store, stood before its marble counter, and or- 
 dered : 
 
 "Ros'b'ry soda with plenty of sirup and plenty 
 of cream!" As the pink and foaming compound 
 was pushed toward her, she volunteered, "I always 
 hanker after one of them new-fangled mixtures," 
 she nodded in the direction of the list upon the 
 wall, "but it's have to hanker! For s'posen, just 
 s'posen I didn't like it and couldn't drink it, and 
 had to own up to Sereny Dodd I'm on an arrant 
 for her and it's her treat that I'd spent her sub- 
 stance for naught! My, but she'd quote, 'Wilful 
 waste makes woeful want,' till the chick-a-biddies 
 went to bed and I'd want to go, too !" 
 
 Presently she set down the glass and prof- 
 fering a dime, bade, "You spare just as much 
 candy as you can for the other five cents. Se- 
 reny, she ain't expecting it, but I wouldn't be 
 mean enough to gobble down the whole ten cents' 
 worth, and moreover, my ma always taught me 
 that sharing your goodies made them twice as 
 relishing !" 
 
 As the smiling white- jacketed clerk handed out
 
 MRS. DODD'S TEN-CENT PIECE 129 
 
 the tiny package of candy, he gave with it two 
 slips of yellow cardboard, at the same time dis- 
 pensing some information that caused Mrs. 
 Wells's countenance to beam radiantly. And 
 it was with a light heart that she trod the steep 
 ascent of Quinton Hill and displayed her spoils 
 to Mrs. Dodd, who, glancing at the number on 
 the soles of the shoes, declared they would fit to 
 a T, pounced with delight upon the candy, and 
 scrutinizing the yellow tickets demanded, "What's 
 them?" 
 
 "Cowpens!" announced Mrs. Wells, blithely. 
 "Cowpens ! And mebbe they'll fetch me a eight- 
 hundred-dollar automobile! Ah-h!" she .clucked 
 her tongue gleefully. 
 
 "O my sakes!" Ponderous Mrs. Dodd rocked 
 violently to and fro, preparatory to rising. 
 "Where is it? Out in front?" 
 
 Mrs. Wells giggled. 
 
 "Mercy me, Sereny, you're so swift! I ain't 
 so to say got my two fists on it yet, but there's a 
 good hope!" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd settled back. "I don't know what 
 you're driving at, Samanthy Wells, no more'n 
 Roger Williams's Rock out yonder!" she averred, 
 petulantly. 
 
 "An automobile !" enunciated Mrs. Wells. "An 
 automobile ! Next week the 'pothecary shop pre- 
 sents an automobile to its customers, and I'm 
 one the clerk said so and the lucky number 
 wins it."
 
 130 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 She flourished the coupons. 
 
 "And the clerk, he said, too, 'Some one's got 
 to win it, and why not you, ma'am?' And I guess, 
 Sereny Dodd, that you'll allow a clerk right on 
 the spot ought to know a little bit! And when 
 it comes," went on Mrs. Wells, "we'll lend it to 
 some nice man for its keep, only he'll have to take 
 you out riding every single pleasant day !" 
 
 But Mrs. Dodd interrupted, black eyes flash- 
 ing, "Guess he'll take you, too, Samanthy Wells, 
 or Sereny Dodd'll know the why and where- 
 fore !" 
 
 "Don't get all het up!" pacified Mrs. Wells, 
 patting her roommate's shoulder. " 'Twill hold 
 four ! O me ! O my ! I can scarcely wait till the 
 day dawns !" 
 
 The following week was long, long! Mrs. 
 Wells tugged upstairs the encyclopedia lettered 
 "A to Bau," and finding beside "Automobile" a 
 note, "See Motor-car," remarked, philosophically, 
 "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again!" 
 bore the volume back to the bookcase in the lower 
 hall, and brought up the one lettered "Mac to 
 Nil." 
 
 Miss Sally Sloane, whose tongue by right of 
 heredity should have had the "real French twist," 
 for did not her forebears hail from the "Jar- 
 seys?" was consulted anxiously as to the correct 
 pronunciation of chauffeur, garage and tonneau ; 
 but for the most part the roommates watched in 
 fascination the many automobiles that sped past
 
 MRS. DODD'S TEN-CENT PIECE 131 
 
 on their way to the country club-houses beyond 
 the borders of the town. 
 
 At last, the fateful day arrived, and when at 
 seven o'clock Betty Macdonald, dusting the par- 
 lors, heard the thud of The Rising Sim, as the 
 carrier hurled it against the front door of the 
 Home, she at once captured it, and bustled up to 
 the room of Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. Wells, pro- 
 claiming : 
 
 "15,484 gets it!" 
 
 "That's it, that's it!" cried Mrs. Dodd, sus- 
 pending the task of tying her apron-strings, 
 while little Mrs. Wells, like "My Son John, with 
 one shoe off and one shoe on," shuffled across the 
 floor, and with tremulous hands pulled forth 
 the bureau drawer and extracted therefrom the 
 slips of yellow pasteboard. 
 
 "O deary me!" she wailed. "O deary, deary 
 me ! If I'd only been the one after myself !" 
 
 Betty seized the tickets. "15,482 and 15,483. 
 It's a shame, a bom'nable shame !" she sympa- 
 thized. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd groaned dismally, but Mrs. Wells, 
 after the first shock of the news, and with fine 
 fervor, observed: 
 
 "It might have been worse, Sereny! Things 
 always might have been worse! S'posen, just 
 s'posen, we'd drawed that automobile, and first 
 trip out had broke our limb! Oh, I tell you, 
 Sereny Dodd, there's always Balm in Gilead for 
 them as seeks it!"
 
 132 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 But Mrs. Dodd was not to be comforted. "I 
 don't want no Balm in Gilead, Samanthy Wells !" 
 she sobbed. "I want a ride!" 
 
 It was during the last five minutes at the next 
 board meeting that Miss Timpkins, to whom 
 Betty had confided the blasting of the hopes cher- 
 ished by the roommates, was relating the story. 
 
 "They were so disappointed," she commented, 
 "particularly Mrs. Dodd. You see, since she has 
 grown so stout, she has very few outings. Mr. 
 Green, a sort of sixteenth cousin from Taunton, 
 drives her out occasionally, but it's an old-fash- 
 ioned carryall, high, and narrow between the seats, 
 and it takes him and Nora and Betty a full quar- 
 ter of an hour to get her in and more to get her 
 out. And as for the electrics," the matron shook 
 her head solemnly, "though we carry out a chair 
 and a footstool and the conductors are most con- 
 siderate and lend a helping hand, there is always 
 some person who thinks it amusing to jest at the 
 old lady's expense, and of course that spoils it 
 entirely! There was that young man that took 
 her to the clam-bake in his motor car, but that," 
 Miss Timpkins hesitated a moment and gazed 
 down at a pencil that she twirled mechanically in 
 her fingers, "was in a way almost unfortunate for 
 it gave her a taste of a pleasure that I suppose she 
 is not likely to partake of again !" 
 
 For a moment all was very still in the Home 
 office, save for the chug-chug and whir-whir of 
 the big red touring-car and the green steamer
 
 MRS. DODD'S TEN-CENT PIECE 133 
 
 waiting outside. Then with one impulse the pres- 
 ident and vice-president spoke. "I " began 
 Mrs. Waldron. "I " began Mrs. Frater; but 
 their voices were drowned in the unearthly din 
 that suddenly filled the autumn air. 
 
 "Honk ! Honk !" boomed the big red touring- 
 car. "Toot! Toot!" shrilled the green steamer 
 as they answered in unison the shrieking chal- 
 lenge of the siren whistle on the dark blue car 
 just topping Quinton Hill, and Mrs. Kipp, the 
 secretary of the board, started up, exclaiming: 
 
 "That's my husband! He's hungry for his 
 lunch when he calls like that ! I must be going, 
 but to-morrow " 
 
 And as Miss Timpkins grasped the import of 
 Mrs. Kipp's words, she smiled, and the smile 
 deepened when, a second later, Mrs. Waldron and 
 Mrs. Frater completed their sentences in her re- 
 ceptive ear. 
 
 "To-morrow" had come, a crisp, cool day, one of 
 those belonging to the oasis of days that usually 
 comes in between the last hot wave in August and 
 the no less hot wave that, according to Torbolton 
 teachers and their pupils, invariably accompanies 
 the opening week of the autumn term of the Tor- 
 bolton schools. A sweet salt southerly breeze 
 whipped the surface of the bay into tiny dancing 
 whitecaps and gently fanned the cheeks of the oc- 
 cupants of the three automobiles flying across 
 the long bridge toward the park. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd, tucked cozily in the corner of the
 
 134 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 tonneau of the foremost, reflected, "Boldwood al- 
 ways said, 'Anticipation beats realization.' " She 
 closed her eyes, and before her mental vision raced 
 a mad procession of motor-cars, red, green and 
 blue! And again red, green and blue! "Once a 
 week the year round! That's the promise," she 
 mused. 
 
 She opened her eyes. Here she actually was, 
 sitting in the big red touring car, the green 
 steamer pressing close behind, and last of all, the 
 dark blue car. 
 
 She drew a sigh of contentment. "Well, I 
 guess I'll never be real positive, for I've got 'em 
 both." Then she spoke aloud in ecstasy, "O Sa- 
 manthy Wells, a thankful woman be I this day !" 
 
 "Me too !" chirped little Mrs. Wells, nestled 
 between Mrs. Dodd and Mrs. Ford, and patting 
 the former's knee affectionately, she went on: 
 
 "And it's all your doing, Sereny. When you 
 wa'n't a selfish pig and didn't keep that last 
 ten-cent piece your niece Lyddy from over to 
 Holt give you till it burnt a hole clean through 
 your pocket and got lost and did no good to no 
 one, besides your having to have the pocket 
 patched to boot, but treated Samanthy Wells to 
 a glass of ros'b'ry soda, that's when you cast 
 bread upon the waters! And now after many 
 days, not so very many after all though, " she 
 counted on her small black cotton-gloved fingers 
 "just nine, it has returned to you, sweet as 
 honey in the comb, and enough,- " Mrs. Wells
 
 MRS. DODO'S TEN-CENT PIECE 135 
 
 paused, and gazed about her at the blissful faces 
 in the big red touring car, peeped over her shoul- 
 der at the green steamer, where, in the midst of 
 happy companions, was esconced old Mrs. Far- 
 well, and waved to Miss Sally Sloane in the dark 
 blue car, "enough to feed, O Sereny, enough to 
 feast the multitude!"
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE PATCHWORK KITTEN 
 
 DAY by day, September was passing, and it 
 was a charming morning late in the month, when 
 little Mrs. Wells, contemplating the outer world 
 pensively, remarked to her roommate: 
 
 "Peaceful, ain't it, Sereny? Seems like the 
 garden of Eden before the " 
 
 She was interrupted by a wail of woe, "Miau! 
 Miau! Miau!" There was a rush, a scramble, a 
 rattling of the trellis outside, a resonant, "Bow- 
 wow-wow !" 
 
 Mrs. Wells sprang up hastily and leaning from 
 the window, announced, "It's that horrid big Eng- 
 lish mastiff from the engine-house on tke boule- 
 vard, and he's chased a cat into our honeysuckle." 
 She peered down into the thick foliage of the vine. 
 "I can just make it out. It's black and yellow 
 and white. Then cooingly, "You naughty doggy, 
 stop it !" 
 
 But the mastiff paid no heed, continuing to 
 bark vociferously. 
 
 "I'll tend to his case," affirmed Mrs. Dodd. "Go 
 home, you beast !" she boomed ; and as the dog 
 slunk away, she adjured in mellifluous accents, 
 "Kitty! Kitty! Co-ome, kitty!" The kitten 
 
 mewed piteously, but clung still more closely to 
 136
 
 THE PATCHWORK KITTEN 137 
 
 the honeysuckle vine, and Mrs. Dodd directed: 
 "Samanthy Wells, you fetch me a broom." 
 Two minutes later, the brush end of a broom 
 was lowered to the level of the small fugitive and 
 by dint of coaxing, he was induced to trust him- 
 self to it and was drawn gently to the window- 
 ledge. 
 
 "O me! O my!" grieved Mrs. Wells. "He's 
 thin's a rail, though he ain't such a turrible young 
 kitty." 
 
 "How folkses can, beats me," stormed Mrs. 
 Dodd. "Hire someone to look after the dogs, 
 put the horses out in nice spring pastur's, bar- 
 gain for the whole entire family to spend the sea- 
 son at one of them firstclass sky-high hotels up 
 among the Berkshires and leave little innocents 
 like this to starve all by their lonesomes in a 
 great city!" 
 
 The big Boston "rocker" creaked indignantly 
 as she plumped down into it. "Here, you gimme 
 him," she ordered. "I've had 'sperience. Bold- 
 wood and me brung up a baker's dozen of young 
 kittens their own nateral protectors had de- 
 serted." Mrs. Dodd hugged the small creature 
 to her breast. "Now you cut along to Betty 
 Macdonald and say ain't she got a thimbleful of 
 milk to spare and to heat it up a speck." 
 
 Presently Betty appeared, but as' she placed a 
 brimming saucer on the floor, she said, doubtfully, 
 "I don't know about these actions. Miss Timp- 
 kins ain't got back from market yet, but I ain't
 
 138 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 by no means sure she'll approve of toling cats 
 around." 
 
 "This ain't cats, Betty Macdonald," protested 
 Mrs. Wells, reproachfully. "It's just one leetle, 
 teenty-tonty scrap of a kittykin ! Oh, do see 
 him a-lapping up that good breakfast with his 
 cunning little pink tongue. O me ! O my ! Wa'n't 
 he hungry?" 
 
 Soon the other ladies of the household had 
 flocked in, and old Mrs. Farwell was begging: 
 
 "Let me hold him a spell. He's the very im- 
 age of the little kitty my pa lugged all the way 
 up from Falmouth when I wa'n't the heighth of 
 a pudding stick, a reg'lar patchwork kitty like 
 this, and we named him Joseph." 
 
 "Who for?" demanded Miss Sally Sloane. 
 
 "For Joseph, the son of Jacob, of course," re- 
 joined old Mrs. Farwell, in mild surprise. She 
 stroked the soft yellow and black and white fur. 
 "Didn't he have a coat of many colors like this 
 dear little pussy-cat? And I can speak a piece 
 about him, too." She crooned, tremulously : 
 
 "I love little pussy, his coat is so warm, 
 And if I don't hurt him, he'll do me no harm. 
 I'll not pull his tail or drive him away, 
 But pussy and I very gently will play." 
 
 A brisk voice from the doorway addressed the 
 group, "Why, why, ladies, what have we here?" 
 
 There was a babel of explanations and plead- 
 ings, but Miss Timpkins shook her head.
 
 
 THE PATCHWORK KITTEN 139 
 
 "I wish we could keep him," she answered, re- 
 gretfully, "but we cannot. The by-laws are very 
 explicit, 'No pets.' I'll notify the Society for 
 the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and they'll 
 dispose of him." 
 
 As Miss Timpkins departed, Mrs. Dodd sighed: 
 
 "I s'pose them by-laws is like the ones con- 
 jured up by Mr. Mead and several other persons, 
 and my Boldwood, he told me oncet they couldn't 
 never be changed, not for nothing nor nobody!" 
 
 The clock was striking two when the agent for 
 the society of the many initials mounted the pol- 
 ished oak stairs with the matron and was met at 
 the top by little Mrs. Wells who besought : . 
 
 "You'll be real tender with him, won't you, 
 Mister? He's a turrible frail little mite." 
 
 "Certainly," assured the agent, amiably, and 
 Mrs. Wells turned and led the way back to her 
 room. But the patchwork kitten, that only a 
 moment before had been basking in the sunshine 
 upon the window-ledge, had disappeared; and no 
 living being was to be seen save Mrs. Serena 
 Dodd, drowsing in her big Boston "rocker." 
 
 "Kitty, kitty, kitty!" called Miss Timpkins. 
 "Kitty, kitty, kitty!" called Mrs. Wells; and 
 "Kitty, kitty, kitty," called the agent. But at 
 last masculine patience was exhausted, and the 
 agent declared: 
 
 "I'm in a hurry to-day, ma'am, but I'll drop 
 in again to-morrow." 
 
 As retreating footsteps were heard along the
 
 140 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 corridor, Mrs. Dodd opened a wary black eye. 
 "Gone?" she breathed. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Wells, "and I'm turrible 
 glad we didn't discover that darling kitty for I 
 do say that not a mortal soul ought to be- 
 grudge his enj'ying a few more hours of this bee- 
 yutiful autumn weather." 
 
 "I say and I do is diffrunt." Mrs. Dodd 
 opened wide both black eyes. "Sereny Dodd, she 
 doos ! Samanthy Wells, you shut that door." 
 
 Wonderingly, the little woman obeyed. 
 
 "Lock it," was the curt command, and Mrs. 
 Wells locked it. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd, bending forward, pulled out the 
 lowest bureau drawer, and raising a pudgy fore- 
 finger, whispered, " 'Sh ! 'Sh ! Don't make a 
 noise ! If you do," with an unctuous chuckle, "if 
 you do, you'll wake the baby up!" And there, 
 sure enough, in the lowest bureau drawer, placidly 
 slumbered the patchwork kitten. 
 
 "He was so happy," beamed Mrs. Dodd, 
 "a-napping it in the sunshine that somehow or 
 'nother, I hadn't the heart to let him be disposed 
 of. So soon's you skipped out into the hall, I 
 whisked him up just as easy and popped him 
 in out of sight. With that crack up behind 
 where I'm always shunting things overboard, I 
 calc'lated he wouldn't smother." 
 
 "You're so smart, Sereny," admired Mrs. 
 Wells, "but, oh, how did you darst?" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd bridled. "Didn't darst and Sereny
 
 THE PATCHWORK KITTEN 141 
 
 Dodd wa'n't never near neighbors," she retorted, 
 "but I don't take no credit for it. I was born 
 so." She reached down and lifted out the kit- 
 ten. "Ain't little Joseph hahnsome?" 
 
 "He is so," assented Mrs. Wells, "and Joseph's 
 turrible appropriate, but a bit elderly, don't 
 you think? How'd Josie do for short, 
 Sereny?" 
 
 "I guess 'twill be Josie for short, all right," 
 gloomily commented Mrs. Dodd, " 'cording to 
 Miss Timpkins and that Cruelty man ! Howsom- 
 ever," her face glowed with the sudden thought, 
 "my Boldwood always said what man had done 
 oncet he could more'n likely do again. And. don't 
 man embrace woman? And ain't Boldwood's wife 
 a woman? And if I've hid this patchwork kitty 
 oncet, can't I hide him some more?" 
 
 And Mrs. Wells encouraged, " 'Tennyrate, you 
 can try, for my Absalom, he used to say, 'Try 
 can't never be left far behind.' ' 
 
 "That there patchwork kitty is on our window- 
 ledge again," proclaimed Mrs. Dodd, boldly, that 
 night at the supper table. "Can't Betty Mac- 
 donald give him a drink of milk?" And Miss 
 Timpkins nodded goodnaturedly. 
 
 Promptly at two on the following day the 
 Cruelty man arrived, but for the second time lit- 
 tle Joseph had vanished, and while the matron 
 glanced into the closets and Mrs. Wells O Mrs. 
 Wells ! peeped beneath the beds, the agent dryly 
 observed :
 
 142 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "A window ledge touching a vine-covered trellis 
 is no prison for a cat. He's miles away by now, 
 ma'am. Good day." 
 
 "Whereas," chirped little Mrs. Wells an hour 
 later to her assembled companions, "Betty says if 
 all of us ladies will agree, 'No milk in our tea,' 
 she and Nora can manage to feed little Joseph 
 'thout no extry expense to the Board or bother- 
 ing Miss Timpkins one ioty. Resolved, 'Will we 
 do it?'" 
 
 "We will," was the solemn chorus. 
 
 During the next week the patchwork kitten was 
 smuggled in and out under various concealing 
 aprons for his daily exercise in the garden. By 
 the end of that time he had learned to climb up 
 and down the trellis path, and while Miss Timp- 
 kins was on her tour of marketing, ten to eleven 
 precisely each weekday morning, there is nothing 
 like methodical habits in the head of a household 
 to promote harmony Joseph entered upon his 
 new kingdom. 
 
 He strolled in upon Miss Sally Sloane, snug- 
 gled lazily among Mrs. Ford's couch cushions, 
 cuddled down in old Mrs. Farwell's ever ready 
 lap and was the only dweller beneath that roof 
 with whom bashful Mrs. Prendergast talked 
 freely. 
 
 These were, indeed, days of fearful joy, not 
 only days, but nights also. For often at mid- 
 night the young scamp would clamber up the 
 trellis, and scratching on the screen would mew
 
 THE PATCHWORK KITTEN 143 
 
 imperiously, and little Mrs. Wells, starting up in 
 her bed, would exclaim : 
 
 "There's our Josie! Ain't he clever?" 
 And while Mrs. Dodd was muttering, sleepily, 
 "Most too clever!" the little woman, scurrying 
 to the window, would lift the screen, welcoming 
 the visitor affectionately, and as she crawled back 
 beneath the blankets, the patchwork kitten would 
 nestle down beside her, purring with satisfaction, 
 only to rouse her again at daybreak, demanding 
 instant egress. 
 
 Then the October nights grew colder, much 
 colder, and Joseph came not once, but sometimes 
 twice and thrice between midnight and dawn, and 
 although Mrs. Wells still attended upon the small 
 tyrant with alacrity, Mrs. Dodd grumbled, not 
 
 "Upon what meat doth this our Csesar feed 
 That he hath grown so great?" 
 
 but it's Yankee equivalent, "Joseph's getting too 
 big for his boots. He needs a hot loaf on his 
 head." 
 
 Then came one morning when Mrs. Wells was 
 found to have a headache and some fever and 
 Mrs. Dodd was immediately transferred to an- 
 other room and a trained nurse installed. 
 
 That night, a night of frosty, piercing winds, 
 there sounded as usual from the window-ledge an 
 urgent summons, but the nurse, a stalwart maiden 
 and one who knew not Joseph, did not admit the 
 young rascal, but instead cuffed his ears vigor-
 
 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 ously, and while he clattered down the trellis, 
 little Mrs. Wells wept silently among her pil- 
 lows. 
 
 And when at seven o'clock, Betty Macdonald 
 tiptoed in to make sympathetic inquiries, the little 
 woman stretched forth an appealing hand and 
 murmured : 
 
 ".Josie traveled up to the window and she 
 wouldn't let him in!" 
 
 "Never you mind," consoled Betty. "I'll see 
 to Joseph." And an hour later the patchwork 
 kitten, with a dish of cold water for his only sus- 
 tenance and cheer, was roaming forlornly about 
 the cellar, while Nora O'Hara was asking: 
 
 "Ain't you going to give the little fellow a 
 bite to eat?" 
 
 "He ain't such a little fellow, after all," as- 
 serted Betty. "He was half starved when we 
 took him in, but now he's been having his three 
 meals a day, steady and reg'lar ever since, he's 
 full capable of earning his own living like the 
 rest of us." 
 
 And the patchwork kitten justified Betty's con- 
 fidence, for when, on the following morning, 
 she opened the cellar door, a haughty shape in 
 yellow and black and white darted forth and laid 
 at Betty's feet a small gray trophy. 
 
 "E-e-e!" screamed Nora, while Betty exulted: 
 
 "A mouse! A mouse!" Then to the matron, 
 emerging from the dining-room, "O Miss Timp- 
 kins, Joseph's caught a mouse!"
 
 THE PATCHWORK KITTEN 145 
 
 The matron stared in amazement. "Joseph? 
 Who's Joseph?" 
 
 "The patchwork kitten, ma'am," responded 
 Betty. " 'Twas Mrs. Farwell named him, ma'am, 
 and now he's proved himself the grand mouser, 
 ma'am, and ain't only a pet no longer, ma'am, 
 don't you suppose the board will let him stay here 
 with us, ma'am?" And Nora O'Hara chimed in: 
 
 "The old ladies, they do love Joseph to de- 
 struction." 
 
 "Joseph!" repeated the dazed Miss Timpkins. 
 "Mrs. Farwell named him!" confusedly. "The 
 old ladies love him." She recalled doors gliding 
 to at her approach, stifled phrases and "Why 
 to be sure," regarding the sleek well-nourished 
 feline before her, "that's where the milk the old 
 ladies have been refusing for their tea has gone 
 to. Dear me! Dear, dear me!" Then "Well, 
 under the circumstances perhaps the board will 
 consent, only " 
 
 But the head of the household was speaking to 
 empty air, for Betty with Joseph in her arms and 
 Nora O'Hara at her heels was racing up the 
 stairs to tell the joyful tidings, and while Mrs. 
 Dodd, sitting in Sally Sloane's room, caressed 
 the patchwork kitten, little Mrs. Wells from 
 across the hall piped, hoarsely : 
 
 "O me ! O my ! Ain't we tickled 'most to pieces 
 that that Mr. Mead and several other persons 
 your Boldwood was acquainted with ain't never 
 been elected to our board of managers!"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 THE TORCHLIGHT PARADE 
 
 " 'LECTION'S next Tuesday," said little Mrs. 
 Wells, picking up The Rising Sun the morning 
 of the last day of October. Her hoarseness was 
 quite gone and she was preparing to read the 
 news of the day. "Glorious Injun Summer 
 weather, too! They'd ought " 
 
 "Injun Summer's in November," broke in Miss 
 Sally Sloane, but Mrs. Dodd instantly affirmed: 
 
 "That's where you're mistook, Sally Sloane; it 
 don't depend on times or seasons or whether it's 
 October or November. It's just like St. Martin's 
 Summer the Canajens tell about, and they both 
 come along in the autumn just after the fall of 
 the leaf. And," defiantly, as she pointed to the 
 leaves swiftly dropping, yellow and brown, from 
 the tall trees before the Home, "if my word ain't 
 enough, there's the proof!" 
 
 Miss Sloane was just parting her lips for fur- 
 ther remarks when Mrs. Ford hastily inter- 
 vened : 
 
 "Going to tell us what's in the paper, Mrs. 
 Wells?" 
 
 And little Mrs. Wells began: 
 
 " 'Grand torchlight parade ! Route of 
 
 march ' " 
 
 146
 
 THE TORCHLIGHT PARADE 147 
 
 "Huh!" scoffed Mrs. Dodd. "Same old route 
 as they've trod over this last seven hundred years, 
 I'll warrant ! Meet at Three Arch Bridge, trail 
 out Abbey Street, cut across by the cemetery, 
 poke along down the Water Way to the bridge 
 again, then lay down their arms and disperse 
 'thout one of us hill people getting so much as a 
 side-wise squint at 'em. Them marchers," with- 
 eringly, "be a feeble folk!" 
 
 "Not this time," said Mrs. Wells. "For there's 
 more than forty clubs of out-of-towners in it, and 
 they ain't forgot what legs is for. And the route 
 of march is up Quinton Hill, through Lafayette 
 Place, and " 
 
 "Lafayette Place !" interrupted Mrs. Ford. 
 "Why, that's close by, just behind us!" 
 
 Mrs. Wells turned to the open window, and 
 luxuriously inhaling the sweet fresh air, declared, 
 "It's balmy as balmy, and there can't be any 
 airthly reason why we couldn't promenade out to 
 the corner this evening and enj'y the spe'tacle. 
 I'll put it to Miss Timpkins soon's she comes up." 
 
 "She's coming now," announced Miss Sally 
 Sloane from her post near the door. "Miss 
 Timpkins ! Mrs. Wells wants a word with you." 
 
 The next instant, Mrs. Wells, somewhat pink 
 of cheek, was bravely presenting the case to the 
 matron, who answered: 
 
 "Why, I have no objection, only " she hesi- 
 tated, regarding old Mrs. Farwell in her wheeled 
 chair.
 
 148 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "Oh, I ain't lotting on going," averred Mrs. 
 Farwell, in thin tremulous tones. "Some things 
 has to be, and there's a verse of Scriptur I learned 
 long long ago: 'When thou wast young thou 
 walkedst whither thou wouldest but when 
 thou shalt be old . . . another shall carry 
 thee.' And I've noted that that most always 
 means you stay to home. Wish I could see them 
 marchers, though." 
 
 "Never you mind," consoled Miss Timpkins, 
 patting Mrs. Farwell's shoulder. "Betty and 
 Nora may escort the others, but I'm going to stay 
 right here with you. We'll open the windows 
 and hear the music and have a good time all by 
 ourselves." 
 
 "Now, Betty Macdonald," adjured the matron 
 after supper, "you and Nora had better run down 
 to Sydney Terrace you can see the bridge from 
 there, and the very second the parade starts, 
 you hurry back and get the old ladies. Then 
 there'll be just time enough for them to walk out 
 to the corner." 
 
 At eight o'clock the two maids were pacing 
 briskly along the boulevard at the east of the 
 Home, but as they turned into Lafayette Place, 
 they stopped abruptly. On the opposite side of 
 the street a new house was building and from 
 its foundations, extending to the middle of the 
 road, yawned a deep wide trench flanked by 
 mounds of dirt and lengths of earthenware pipe. 
 A huge green-painted tool-chest, a couple of bar-
 
 THE TORCHLIGHT PARADE 149 
 
 rels and a quantity of bricks completed the barri- 
 cade, and from curb to curb stretched an array 
 of brightly burning lanterns proclaiming, "No 
 passing this way." 
 
 "Sure," ejaculated Nora O'Hara, wrathfully, 
 " 'tis an inimy has done this !" 
 
 Betty pondered for a moment and then said, 
 tersely, "Mebbe 'tis! Mebbe 'tain't! Anyhow 
 you hustle straight back and keep the old ladies 
 upstairs till I get there, too." 
 
 As Nora promptly obeyed orders, Betty scaled 
 the tool-chest; it was worth while having grown 
 up on the Pictou farm with six venturesome elder 
 brothers when it came to an occasion like this. 
 Then in hot haste she dashed to Sydney Terrace. 
 Below her sounded a bugle; and crawling forward 
 from the bridge, like some monstrous fiery dragon, 
 was the parade, its hundred-eyed head already on 
 the hill and its glittering tail forking back up 
 Abbey Street and the Water Way. 
 
 Meanwhile Nora was the center of an agitated 
 group, with Mrs. Dodd lamenting: 
 
 "I never have any luck at all with torchlights ! 
 The first one ever was in Torbolton I was kind 
 of under the weather, couldn't stir a peg nor 
 raise my head from the pillow and Boldwood said 
 it was the finest sight he'd ever seed. And next 
 time if he hadn't up and dropped a horseshoe on 
 his inskip, and I hadn't the heart to leave him 
 to suffer by his lonesome and me out frolicking! 
 And now " she sobbed bitterly.
 
 150 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 "Nora! Nora!" panted Betty Macdonald, who, 
 unobserved, had entered the house and was mount- 
 ing the polished oak stairs. "Nora ! Nora 
 O'Hara! You open the door on the upper porch 
 and haul out Mrs. Dodd's big Boston rocker, 
 and Mrs. Wells, you get Mrs. Dodd right out into 
 it!" 
 
 She pushed by the astonished women and darted 
 into Mrs. Farwell's room. Grasping the wheeled 
 chair, she propelled it with its occupant into the 
 corridor, and trundling it forward, bade impera- 
 tively, although respectfully, "Miss Timpkins, 
 you fetch her shawl and rigolette. She's going 
 to watch the parade from the top piazzy. We're 
 all going to watch it. It's coming by here. 
 There ain't a minute to lose. Nora and me'll 
 lug out chairs for all of you quick's we can." 
 
 Talking and laughing and jostling one an- 
 other, soon all were out on the veranda, and com- 
 fortably arranged with knees pressing close 
 against the balusters not a back seat among 
 them, if you please, all in the front row peering 
 over the broad rail eagerly, expectantly, and oh, 
 so happy ! while Betty, drawing a contented 
 breath, explained: 
 
 "When I sensed the parade couldn't get through 
 Lafayette Place, thinks I, this is one of them ill 
 winds that never blows nobody no good 'less you 
 make it, and I scrambled over and just scud. 
 And when they topped Quinton Hill I was there, 
 and I skipped out before them and threw up my
 
 THE TORCHLIGHT PARADE 151 
 
 hands like I was Dick Turpentine and hollered! 
 And they halted square in their tracks and began 
 bumping back down the hill against each other, 
 the hind ones yelling to know what was up ; and the 
 head commander most fell off his horse when I 
 told him the trouble, and said : 
 
 " 'Great Scott ! I'm a stranger here. Which 
 way shall we go?' 
 
 " 'This way,' said I, and I beckoned, and they 
 followed on, and I raced ahead 's if I had wings 
 to my heels. Oh, here they are!" 
 
 Round the corner of Sydney Street was swing- 
 ing a column of dancing torchlights, the band in 
 the van crashing out a rollicking melody, and 
 Mrs. Dodd, her tears all dried, rejoiced: 
 
 "Music ! And 'tis Sereny Dodd that knows the 
 tune 'I'm Captain Jinks of the Horse Ma- 
 rines.' Many a time and oft have I heerd my 
 Boldwood sing that. He was the greatest crit- 
 tur for music ever you see. Why, let an organ- 
 grinder strike up before the shop, and he'd lay 
 down his hammer and anvil just as easy, 
 and" 
 
 But this was no time for retrospection, with 
 flags waving, drums beating, fifes shrilling, trom- 
 bones blaring, and red fire burning till it seemed 
 as if every nook and cranny of the universe was 
 suffused with its crimson glow. 
 
 "Oh, look, look, Mrs. Farwell!" cried Betty 
 Macdonald, as a transparency paused before 
 them. "There's something special for you." She
 
 152 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 chanted, blithely, "Oh, have you heard the news 
 from Maine, Maine, Maine?" 
 
 "No, I ain't," quavered old Mrs. Farwell, "but 
 if it's news from Maine, it's bound to be proper 
 good news." 
 
 The parade moved on, and bashful Mrs. Pren- 
 dergast called out, excitedly: 
 
 "The Rock! The Rock! And an Injun chief 
 in front with 'What cheer, Netop?' dangling 
 around his neck, and there's Roger Williams him- 
 self in the bow of the boat, and my grandsir's 
 there, too! My great, great, great-grandsir ! 
 His pictur's up in the Historical Rooms, but 
 never, no never, did I expect to see him on this 
 mortal sp'ere!" 
 
 One awestruck moment! Then Mrs. Ford was 
 pointing with triumphant finger at a great tri- 
 colored wheel uplifted on the shoulders of a score 
 of stalwart men, upon its upper rim emblazoned 
 the legend, "We're here, let's stay!" And Mrs. 
 Ford exulted: 
 
 "Ain't it splendid we're all one party?" 
 
 " 'Cept me !" disclaimed Miss Sally Sloane, 
 firmly. "My pa and his pa afore him away back 
 to the tea-fight, was on tother side, and Hain't 
 for me to deny the faith of my fathers." 
 
 "There, there," soothed Miss Timpkins, "we 
 won't dwell on our differences. Here's something 
 we all love." 
 
 Advancing up the avenue was a gorgeously 
 decorated float. Columbia herself clad in "celes-
 
 THE TORCHLIGHT PARADE 153 
 
 tial white," streaked with "morning light," her 
 "azure" tunic spangled with "stars of glory," 
 sat high in air. About her were clustered thir- 
 teen fair maidens, the tiniest of all standing in 
 the forefront, clasping with chubby fist the staff 
 of the state banner, the banner of Hope, gold 
 and blue and beautiful. 
 
 The vision rolled by. 
 
 "Hurray ! Hurray !" chirped little Mrs. Wells, 
 suddenly leaning forward. "There's my nephew 
 Peter Rawdon! Hello, Peter!" 
 
 Someone in the ranks shouted, "How do, Aunt 
 Samanthy!" Then to the men about, "It's the 
 Old Ladies' Home, and the old ladies are out re- 
 viewing the parade. Three cheers for 'em!" 
 
 Off came hats and caps in grand salute. Cheer 
 rose on cheer, not three cheers, but three times 
 three, and then a "tiger !" 
 
 Company on company trooped by, the bands 
 playing their prettiest, "Hail Columbia," "The 
 Red, White and Blue," "Yankee Doodle," and 
 "America," with its soul- thrilling chords. Then 
 tramp, tramp tramp ! That was the regiment 
 of cadets from the college on the hill, a thousand 
 strong, in Greek helmets and nut-brown paper- 
 cambric togas, led by their own brass band, which 
 now broke forth into, "My grandma lives on 
 yonder green." 
 
 One of the boys perhaps Slater Jones, who 
 "tended" the Home furnace trolled, lustily, 
 "Finest old lady ever was seen!" and the young
 
 154> SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 fellows behind joined in, and presently a mighty 
 chorus was roaring up* to the heavens. 
 
 Then the lilting measure glided softly into, 
 "Good night, ladies ! We're going to leave you 
 now." The refrain died away in the distance, 
 the last spark of red fire flickered out, chairs were 
 scraped back from the balustrade. 
 
 "Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Timpkins. "It's 
 long past ten o'clock ! To bed, to bed !" 
 
 "Wait wait a minute, ladies," exhorted Mrs. 
 Wells. "In your behalf, let me offer a vote of 
 thanks to Elizabeth Macdonald, to whom we are 
 indebted for the pleasure of this evening. It's 
 just as my ma always said, when one door shuts 
 in this world another one opens. Leastwise it's 
 unbolted and unbarred, though 'tain't every one 
 knows enough to do what our Betty done turn 
 the knob and give the door a little shove!"
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 MRS. DODD'S COLLECTING DAY 
 
 "ONE dozen new pink-and-white striped outing 
 flannel babies' pinning-blankets !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd enunciated the words joyously. She 
 snapped off her thread, dropped her open-topped 
 steel thimble on the table, and spreading upon her 
 knees the little garment in which she had just set 
 the last stitch, caressed it into shape, repeating, 
 unctuously : 
 
 "One dozen new pink-and-white striped outing 
 flannel babies' pinning-blankets. My, but that's 
 a lot of the Lord's little ones to keep warm !" She 
 leaned back in her big Boston "rocker" and gaz- 
 ing out into the gray November day, added, 
 "Massy knows they'll need 'em! Winter's com- 
 ing in awful early this year. Folks on the Ave- 
 nue look 'most froze to death !" A moment later 
 she was listening to the great clock on the land- 
 ing striking the hour of three and went on, "Full 
 time some other people had their promises re- 
 deemed." 
 
 From the low wicker chair opposite, Mrs. Wells, 
 knitting frantically upon a cotton yarn wash- 
 cloth, uttered a breathless, "Only two more rows, 
 Sereny, and the binding-off, and I'm ready, too !" 
 
 Without answering, Mrs. Dodd rose to her feet, 
 155
 
 156 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 lumbered across the floor, and laid the pinning- 
 blanket upon a pile of similar small garments at 
 one end of her white counterpaned bed. 
 
 Then she spoke relentingly, "Well, well, Sa- 
 manthy, mebbe I shouldn't have been so fore- 
 handed neither if Mrs. Waldron and the rest of 
 the board hadn't got so stocked up on flat-iron 
 holders that I couldn't sell them another one to 
 raise any more money to buy any more stuff. 
 Anyhow, I've got one dozen new " 
 
 "Your niece Lyddy from over to Holt is 
 marching through the gate," interrupted Mrs. 
 Wells. 
 
 Presently Miss Lydia Barren was greeting 
 cheerily, "How do, Mrs. Wells ! How do, Aunt 
 Serena! Here's my contribution to your cloth- 
 ing society." And diving into her shopping bag, 
 Miss Lydia produced a diminutive parcel. 
 
 "I do wish," protested Mrs. Dodd, "that you 
 would not call it my clothing society, just be- 
 cause I'm collecting for it ! It's yours as much 
 as 'tis mine s'long's you donate your two new 
 garments a year. The name of it is 'The Ye 
 Clothed Me Society,' and it's a 'normous or- 
 ganization extending all over the United States 
 and Canady and numbering thou ' She halted. 
 The quotation from the pamphlet published an- 
 nually by the society in question was left un- 
 finished, while Mrs. Dodd stared blankly at the 
 contents of the packet from which she had been 
 unwrapping the paper. Then with a stiff, "Much
 
 MRS. DODD'S COLLECTING DAY 157 
 
 obleeged, Lyddy," she placed Miss Barren's con- 
 tribution beside the pinning-blankets. 
 
 Her niece's countenance expressed perplexity. 
 "Isn't that right, Aunt Serena? You said hand- 
 kerchiefs, I know you said handkerchiefs." 
 
 "I did say handkerchiefs," acknowledged Mrs. 
 Dodd, with asperity. "Certain sure I said 
 handkerchiefs, but I meant that for them as 
 couldn't or wouldn't do better than 'two for five, 
 marked down for this day only.' There's always 
 plenty of them given ! I did not," with emphasis, 
 "mean fine, pure linen, hemstitched, two-inch bor- 
 der handkerchiefs with a wreath of flowers em- 
 broidered in the corner and costing fifty, cents 
 if they cost one penny !" 
 
 "Seventy-five," murmured Miss Lydia. 
 
 "Worser and more of it," commented Mrs. 
 Dodd. "Now, what I really said was 'Handker- 
 chiefs or stockings or underwears, men's and 
 boy's wearing apparel particklar!' But there, I 
 ain't in the habit of peeking into gifthorses' 
 mouths and counting their teeth, and I'm truly 
 glad to get anything! Howsomever, next time," 
 Mrs. Dodd's black eyes twinkled, "if you can't 
 screw up your courage to asking for men's or 
 boys' apparel, just you buy a good pair of single 
 cotton sheets. The society craves them every 
 year." 
 
 "I'll bear it in mind, Aunt Serena," rejoined 
 Miss Lydia, then, pointing from the window, "Be- 
 hold ! Milady Van Dusenberry Bill's coach blocks
 
 158 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 the way! Excuse me!" And Miss Barren dis- 
 appeared through the door. 
 
 The newcomer's silken train rustled richly as 
 she crossed the threshold and with its billowy 
 expansiveness it seemed to fill and overflow the 
 room. Mrs. Wells shrank back, but Mrs. Dodd 
 stood her ground sturdily. 
 
 "Huh!" she muttered to herself. "Guess I 
 ain't skeered of Barbary Bill ! Tied on her pina- 
 fore too many times whilst I housekept for her 
 pa 'twixt his two wives !" 
 
 The next instant she found herself encircled 
 by a pair of velvet clad arms, her nose buried in 
 costly furs, the ostrich plumes of a huge picture 
 hat nodding above her and as she emerged from 
 this ardent embrace, Mrs. Van Dusenberry Bill's 
 tripping accents saluted her. 
 
 "So pleased and charmed to see you, dear 
 Aunty Dodd. When I awoke this morning and 
 removed the slip from the calendar and espied 
 the date and perused those inspiriting lines : 
 
 'While the poor gather round to the end of time, 
 May this bright flower of charity display 
 Its bloom, unfolding at the appointed day/ 
 
 I said to Van, 'That means me, for to-day is the 
 collection for Aunty Dodd's clothing society.' " 
 
 Mrs. Dodd parted her lips to remonstrate, 
 thought better of it, and closed them resignedly. 
 
 From her fluffy muff Mrs. Bill extracted a tiny
 
 MRS. DODD'S COLLECTING DAY 159 
 
 roll and thrust it into Mrs. Dodd's hands which 
 she clasped between both her own. 
 
 "It is a small offering, not at all what I long 
 to give you, dear Aunty Dodd, but such as it is, 
 a vast deal of love and kindly feeling goes with 
 it." She beamed down upon her hostess, kissed 
 her upon both cheeks and with a last pressure of 
 the imprisoned hands and a final "Best wishes for 
 your noble undertaking, Aunty Dodd," Mrs. Van 
 Dusenberry Bill frou-froued from the room. 
 
 Mrs. Dodd untied the blue ribbon that bound 
 the "small offering" and tore off the covering. 
 For a full minute there was silence. Then Mrs. 
 Dodd groaned. 
 
 "I was positive 'twas handkerchiefs, too ! 
 And I kept praying, 'Lord, Lord, give me a 
 thankful heart !' and they're shoe-strings !" 
 
 "Why-ee!" ejaculated little Mrs. Wells, shrilly. 
 "Why-ee, Sereny Dodd, I never heerd the like !" 
 
 "Well, you hear it now," retorted Mrs. Dodd, 
 wrathfully. "Want to hear it again? Shoe- 
 strings ! Shoe-strings !" She glared at the of- 
 fending objects in her plump palm. 
 
 "There, there," comforted Mrs. Wells, "I 
 wouldn't feel bad a mite, Sereny. There has to 
 be shoe-strings, and like enough Barbary Bill 
 thinks shoes grow on bushes ! She was reared 
 in the lap of luxury as you might say, and I 
 wouldn't wonder if her bare toes hadn't never 
 touched cold cobblestones in all her nateral born 
 life. Tennyrate it counts two more, and my
 
 160 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 facecloths are all done and they make another 
 two. Why, you've got eighteen already!" 
 
 "Yes," answered Mrs. Dodd, grimly, "and 
 twelve I made myself!" 
 
 It was seven o'clock, and again Miss Lydia 
 Barren had ascended the stairs at the Torbolton 
 Home for Indigent Females. 
 
 "Dear me, Aunt Serena, but your bed looks 
 packed ready to start. Guess your members all 
 turned up!" 
 
 "They did so," affirmed Mrs. Dodd, happily. 
 "Miss Sally Sloane, she hadn't joined at all, but 
 she donated well. Samanthy and me we felt con- 
 demned when we saw what 'twas, for we'd been 
 remarking only last night on how scant she'd 
 made her new print bedgowns, and there, she'd 
 narrowed the gores and skinched on the flounces 
 till she'd squeezed out two of the elegantest little 
 girls' calico petticoats ever you cast eyes on. 
 And Betty Macdonald fetched in a punkin hood, 
 all wadded, and a pair of speckled leggings like 
 they wear down in Pictou County, and said she 
 wouldn't doane them in this town for money! 
 And I could have 'em and welcome. Betty's 
 generous as they make them! And Cousin John 
 from over Ta'nton way lugged in a bundle from 
 Luelly I never even asked her to contribute, 
 only sent a last year's report with my name writ- 
 ten big and black and bold out on the aidge 
 and there were six new dish-towels and six new 
 hand-towels and two lovely pin-and-spool worsted
 
 MRS. DODD'S COLLECTING DAY 161 
 
 lamp-mats from dear little Ethelindy and Cousin 
 John said if the society wasn't accepting orna- 
 ments they could tack on tapes and use 'em for 
 chest protectors. And when I saw him standing 
 up so smiling and pleasant I took my life in my 
 hand and said I, 'Cousin John, I'm all fixed for 
 but my moneyed member,' and with that he 
 hauled out a crisp one-dollar greenback and 
 tucked it into my hand." 
 
 "Don't forget to tell your niece Lyddy 'bout 
 them nice checked gingham aperns," piped up 
 little Mrs. Wells. 
 
 "Massy sakes, no !" said Mrs. Dodd. " 'Twas 
 Miss Baizel fetched them. She's a seamstress, 
 goes out by the day, lame, and poorer than Job's 
 turkey's littlest picked chicken ever was. But 
 she's got the giving sperit ! She'd been up on 
 Nob Hill all day, and was white's a ghost, and 
 I inquired straight out, 'What did you have for 
 lunch?' and she answered up, just as sprightly, 
 'Some nice Graham crackers and a glass of good 
 fresh water!' Didn't even look criss-cross, and 
 I said, 'You set by and have a cup of tea along 
 of me.' They've been sending me up my supper 
 lately and I calc'lated to divide 'even Stephen.' 
 
 "But Samanthy, she stole downstairs and told 
 Miss Timpkins all about it. And I will say Miss 
 Timpkins has a heart of gold. She sent up an 
 extry plate and cup and saucer and two por- 
 tions of cornbeef hash and hot biscuit and clove 
 (gingerbread and I got out that tumbler of grape
 
 162 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 jell you brung me in tother day and 'twas a sight 
 to make angels sing to see how they relished! 
 And two cups of good strong tea! I didn't 
 water it down an atom. No ma'am! Returned 
 that hot water pitcher full to the brim. Miss 
 Baizel's gone now, but how come you back, Niece 
 Lyddy?" 
 
 From beneath her voluminous cape, Miss Bar- 
 ron shook forth sweeping folds of white. "Best 
 English drilling," she proclaimed, "corded with 
 Turkey red on collars and cuffs, and warranted 
 tough as sole leather!" 
 
 "O Lyddy, Lyddy!" Mrs. Dodd laughed out- 
 right in her glee. "If it wa'n't clever of you 
 to go and get them men's apparel after all. 
 That makes me thirty-six pieces, not count- 
 ing Barbary Bill's two bunches of shoe-strings. 
 Unless," she put forth a tentative hand, "un- 
 less, Lyddy, you want to take back the hand- 
 kerchiefs ? " 
 
 "No, indeed, Aunt Serena! Your collection 
 wouldn't be complete without them. You 
 haven't," mischievously, "got one single one be- 
 sides ! Well, good-by, it's train time." And 
 Mrs. Dodd was left, contemplating rapturously 
 the gallant array upon the white counterpaned 
 bed. 
 
 Presently she spoke, but it was in an under- 
 tone and to herself, "I've a notion to keep back 
 some of them pinning-blankets ! Folks may not 
 do so well another year, and all I really must
 
 MRS. DODD'S COLLECTING DAY 163 
 
 have is the twenty-two." She went on reflec- 
 tively, "It's sort of new-broomy this year!" 
 
 She glanced toward Mrs. Wells who was gazing 
 abstractedly out upon the twinkling lights of the 
 Avenue. With sudden resolution Mrs. Dodd rose, 
 gathered up ten of the pinning-blankets and 
 treading softly across the floor, laid them away in 
 the depths of the bureau. 
 
 Retracing her steps, she sank into her big 
 Boston "rocker," rested her fat elbows upon its 
 broad arms, leaned her head against the cushion 
 at the back, and drew a sigh of contentment. 
 But her repose was only momentary. Her head 
 popped up. 
 
 "My sakes alive, Samanthy Wells!" she ex- 
 claimed. "If you and me ain't neglecting our 
 plain everyday Christian duties, just because 
 Sereny Dodd's going to be a director in 'The 
 Ye Clothed Me Society!' Do you know what we 
 ain't done that we'd ought to have done, Sa- 
 manthy Wells?" 
 
 Mrs. Wells turned from the window. Her 
 startled eyes followed the direction of Mrs. Dodd's 
 finger and fell upon the calf-skin covered Bible 
 on the table. "My stars, Sereny!" gasped the 
 little woman. "Our course reading!" She took 
 the Bible and opened it. 
 
 Again Mrs. Dodd leaned back- her head upon 
 the cushion and an expression of calm benignity 
 crept over her face. 
 
 "Fifth Chapter of the Acts of the Apostles,"
 
 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 began Mrs. Wells, very clearly. " 'But a certain 
 man named Ananias with Sapphira, his wife, sold 
 a possession and ' ' Her voice trailed off into 
 indistinctness, and she grew very pale. 
 
 "What you mumbling like that for, Sa- 
 manthy?" impatiently demanded Mrs. Dodd. 
 "Can't hear nothing you say! Read that out 
 again !" 
 
 And Mrs. Wells read it out again, though 
 falteringly, " 'But a certain man named Ananias 
 with Sapphira, his wife, sold a possession and 
 kept back part of the price !' ' Mrs. Wells 
 stopped. "O Sereny," she wailed, "kept back 
 part of the price!" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd sat up very straight in her chair. 
 Bewilderment, then indignation showed in her 
 countenance. A spot of scarlet blazed on each 
 cheek. 
 
 "Why, Samanthy," she stammered. "Why, 
 Samanthy Wells ! Are you comparing me with 
 Ananias and Sapphira? Me, Sereny Dodd, 
 Boldwood Dodd's lawful widow, and your faith- 
 ful companion, lo, these many years ? Oh ! Oh ! 
 Samanthy !" 
 
 The tears were rolling down her plump cheeks 
 as she ponderously walked to the bureau, and 
 pulling out a drawer, disclosed to Mrs. Wells's 
 astonished eyes, ten "new pink-and-white striped 
 outing flannel babies' pinning-blankets," and as 
 she feverishly dragged them forth, she continued: 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm a wicked old woman, Samanthy !
 
 MRS. DODD'S COLLECTING DAY 165 
 
 But I really don't think 'twas more than a pass- 
 ing idee. Truly I don't believe I'd 've done it." 
 
 She cast an appealing look at Mrs. Wells, who, 
 an instant later, precipitated herself upon Mrs. 
 Dodd's ample bosom, sobbing wildly: 
 
 "O Sereny, Sereny! We're two wicked old 
 women, each more 'niquitous than the other, for 
 Nephew Peter paid me enough for them paper 
 lamplighters to buy cotton for four wash-cloths, 
 and I knitted four, but I kept back two to give 
 away for Christmas presents. That's why I was 
 so long finishing up that last one, 'twas the 
 fourth 'stead of the second! Oh, but my con- 
 science has pricked me sore, Sereny, Sereny!" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd stood aghast. Her tears dried, her 
 color faded, and she spoke with conviction: 
 
 "I knew this 'Ye Clothed Me Society' business 
 was bound to be an awful test of character, an 
 awful, awful test! But little did Sereny Dodd 
 realize who was going to be the individooals tried 
 and found wanting! Howsomever," with solemn 
 fervor, "confession is good for the soul and 
 repentance ain't never too late, 'specially 'fore 
 we've done the deed. You spunk along with them 
 wash-cloths, Samanthy Wells, and we'll wrop up 
 that bundle now afore you and me fall by the 
 wayside again !"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 THE CHRISTMAS BLESSING 
 
 THANKSGIVING was over, and in the comfortable 
 south-west front corner room, little Mrs. Wells 
 was swaying to and fro in her low willow sewing- 
 chair, crooning softly to herself, "Christmas is 
 coming, o-ho, o-ho! Christmas is coming, o-ho!" 
 
 "How soon, Samanthy?" inquired Mrs. Dodd. 
 "Figured it out?" 
 
 "Yes," was the prompt reply. "Four weeks 
 and one day exact from to-morrow. It may 
 seem a bit early to be getting ready for it, but 
 when folkses admire to make Christmas presents 
 the way you and me do, Sereny " 
 
 "And when also," broke in Mrs. Dodd, "we 
 can't raise a copper penny, no, not so much as 
 a leather sixpence between us to go shopping with, 
 and is simply obleeged to conjure everything out 
 of something less than nothing, why then " 
 slowly. 
 
 "Why, then," encouraged Mrs. Wells, "we can't 
 start in too early. It takes loads and loads of 
 time, but that's wherein Sereny Dodd and 
 Samanthy Wells is rich as the richest." 
 
 "We have got all there is," acknowledged her 
 roommate. "What's that you're working on?" 
 
 "A darning-needle holder," answered Mrs. 
 166
 
 THE CHRISTMAS BLESSING 167 
 
 Wells, displaying for inspection a tiny sausage- 
 shaped roll of emerald green satin, "for Betty 
 Macdonald's Christmas gift. Nora O'Hara 
 clipped off the end of her best sash to make it, 
 and I calc'late you 'n' me can scrape up needles 
 enough to stock it, so's it can go from us both." 
 
 "Certain," declared Mrs. Dodd, with en- 
 thusiasm. "And we can always borry one back 
 in case. Betty'll be perfectly willing; she's a 
 good child." 
 
 "Good, gooder, goodest," continued Mrs. 
 Wells. "And I did long and want to buy her 
 one of them raging fur boars, but I guess 'want 
 must be my master,' like he's often been before. 
 Anyhow, I mean well." 
 
 "You mean well, Samanthy," averred Mrs. 
 Dodd, stoutly, "and you do well 'cording to your 
 means." She leaned forward and lifted an im- 
 perative forefinger. "Now let me talk. I ain't 
 told you yet something else you and me are go- 
 ing to do, something grand!" 
 
 Mrs. Wells listened with interest, her small 
 peaked face all aglow, while Mrs. Dodd ex- 
 pounded : 
 
 "I've been a-trying to get at the doing of it 
 for years on eend, but 'tain't been a speck of use. 
 The way folkses have been scairt of wearing any- 
 thing bright or heart-warming has been to my 
 notion a real reflection on the Lord's own handi- 
 work. Ain't the birds and the flowers and the 
 dawn and the sunset dressed up gorgeous? They
 
 168 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 be. But folkses is doing better now, and so'm I. 
 She'll be awful pleased with it, I persume." 
 
 "She? Who? What?" demanded Mrs. Wells. 
 
 From the light-stand drawer before her, Mrs. 
 Dodd extracted a parcel of gay-hued silks, pro- 
 claiming solemnly, "Mrs. Waldron, president of 
 our board, and the crazy-patchwork sofa-cushion 
 cover we will surprise her with on Christmas 
 Day." 
 
 The little woman opposite uttered a cry of 
 delight. 
 
 "O me, my!" she exclaimed. "If that ain't 
 providential! Why, I can contribute my mite, 
 too! There's a square of the green left over 
 from the darning-needle holder, and Betty Mac- 
 donald donated me the orange panne velvet off 
 her last winter's hat, and though it's faded in 
 spots, after they're nipped out, and I've made 
 the carrot pincushion for Nora Betty give it me 
 for, there'll be an elegant good piece besides." 
 
 "Elegant, elegant!" approved Mrs. Dodd, 
 bringing her pudgy palms together resoundingly. 
 "Orange is turrible scarce, too. Just turrible. 
 Why, I ain't" 
 
 "And," interrupted Mrs. Wells, frenziedly rum- 
 maging through her work-basket, "here's oceans 
 of that waste silk my nephew, Peter Rawdon, 
 fetched me oncet on a time. All the colors of 
 the rainbow and half a hundred more." 
 
 She shook out the tangle of silks, and Mrs. 
 Dodd rejoiced:
 
 THE CHRISTMAS BLESSING 169 
 
 "You surely are an old reliable, Samanthy!" 
 Then, questioningly, "You can feather-stitch?" 
 
 "I know how, but I ain't never practiced 
 much," deprecated the little woman. 
 
 "Well, you can 'practice makes perfect* on 
 this, all right," assured her roommate. "There'll 
 be an awful lot to do on it, for Sereny Dodd, she 
 don't even know how. But she done Kensington 
 in her youth, and there ain't a doubt that she'll 
 pick it up again, if she's driv' hard enough." 
 
 And so, in glad anticipation, the sofa-cushion 
 cover was begun, and day in and day out, Mrs. 
 Wells catstitched and featherstitched, chain- 
 stitched and starstitched, brierstitched and 
 French-knotted, while Mrs. Dodd, with anxious, 
 determined old fingers and a permanent scowl on 
 her brow, "done Kensington." 
 
 At last the brilliant mosaic of colors was fin- 
 ished, and as it lay outspread upon the white 
 counterpane, the two women contemplated it with 
 ecstasy. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Dodd burst forth, "That rose- 
 pink taffety like my niece Lyddy from over to 
 Holt's best waist is bee-yutiful, though some- 
 times I sort of mistrust perhaps the cardinal 
 satin like her second-best is full as hahnsome. 
 They both give me an awful happy feeling!" 
 
 "That sky-blue from Miss Timpkins's gown is 
 lovely," ventured Mrs. Wells. 
 
 "Mebbe," admitted Mrs. Dodd. "You all say 
 so, but blue freezes me up worse than the purple
 
 170 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 you cut out of the necktie you begged from your 
 nephew, Peter Rawdon. But there," she chuck- 
 led genially, "I'm e'enamost tickled to death with 
 every identical one on 'em! The plums and the 
 prunes and the navies and browns and all the 
 storm-cloudy shades set off our embroidery splen- 
 did." She paused, but a moment later continued 
 earnestly, " 'Twas a noble thought of yours, Sa- 
 manthy, to trace off them pictur's in the back of 
 the magazines; that baby-shoe outlined in pink 
 floss is just sweet!" 
 
 "Oh, that ain't nothing," modestly disclaimed 
 Mrs. Wells. "Nor the kites nor the pitchforks ! 
 But your real hand-wrought, double-threaded, 
 standy-out harps and crowns and anchors with 
 'Hope' printed along the sharves, they beat the 
 Dutch and Tom Walker ! I never, no, never in 
 all my life ever see the like !" 
 
 Mrs. Dodd preened herself. "I done my leetle 
 best," she said, complacently. 
 
 "But now comes the tug of war," piped up 
 Mrs. Wells. "What be you conceiting to line it 
 with, Sereny?" 
 
 The radiance died out of Mrs. Dodd's counte- 
 nance. "I ain't an idee," she rejoined, plain- 
 tively. "Not more'n little Ethelindy Green over 
 to Ta'nton. It's worrying me something awful! 
 My sakes, if I only had the piece-bag I had when 
 I was first married and kept a-hung up in the ell 
 chamber! There was stuff and stuff and stuff 
 again, if you please."
 
 THE CHRISTMAS BLESSING 171 
 
 "I 'spect so," smiled Mrs. Wells, "but then's 
 then and now's now. But I've got a scheme. 
 Want to hear it?" and as Mrs. Dodd nodded eag- 
 erly, the little woman went on: 
 
 "You can take it or leave it just as you choose, 
 but here 'tis. Far's I can see, there can't a soul 
 on airth stop you 'less you let on beforehand. 
 And they can't then, if you stick to it. 'Tain't 
 their business in one way though I ain't denying 
 it is in another. 'Tennyrate, you need'nt fla'nt 
 it under their noses, not immejiate anyhow. 
 Leastwise I shouldn't ! And they say it's right- 
 eous judgment to judge others by yourself. And 
 I can't imagine why anyone should care but you. 
 But p'raps you'd better decide for yourself. I'll 
 be satisfied either way." 
 
 "Samanthy Wells!" exploded Mrs. Dodd. 
 "You tell me, you tell me quick!" 
 
 "It's your new flannelet dressing-sack," whis- 
 pered Mrs. Wells. 
 
 "My new flannelet dressing-sack !" 
 
 " 'Sh ! 'Sh ! Don't holler so !" cautioned Mrs. 
 Wells. "Yes, ma'am, your new pink flannelet 
 dressing-sack ! I'd offer mine instanter if 'twa'nt 
 gored so turrible, but yours is just gethered onto 
 the collar-band, and a good po'tion of the middle 
 would fit us out complete. I'll cadgel in a piece 
 of the old one so you won't ketch cold, but I warn 
 you, Sereny, you mustn't turn your back on any- 
 body, be he friend or foe!" 
 
 "Huh!" grunted Mrs. Dodd. "Ever seen me?"
 
 172 SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 It was Christmas Eve. Once more upon the 
 white counterpane was outspread in all its glory 
 the crazy-patchwork sofa-cushion cover. 
 
 "Done! Well done!" pronounced little Mrs. 
 Wells. "Three sidess of that pink flannelet lining 
 is over and overed to the front, tight's a drum, 
 and the fourth aidge basted down so Mrs. Wal- 
 dron can whip it up in a hurry. Though I'm 
 turribly sorry we didn't get to get that scarlet 
 and gold cord you hankered so for, Sereny." 
 
 " 'Twould have been mighty perky !" sighed 
 Mrs. Dodd. "Howsomever, them big fluffy 
 woolly tossels and the nice thick twisty cord off 
 your blanket wrapper ain't to be despised!" 
 
 Mrs. Wells viewed the sofa-cushion cover pen- 
 sively. "There's just one fault," she hazarded. 
 "It's too turrible flat. Now if my nephew Peter 
 Rawdon " 
 
 "Don't you bother about your nephew Peter 
 Rawdon, nor yet about my niece Lyddy from over 
 to Holt," admonished Mrs. Dodd. "I'm a-run- 
 ning this job, and," with' ponderous dignity, "I in- 
 tend to plump out that cushion cover with my 
 own bed pillow!" 
 
 Mrs. Wells opened wide her blue eyes. "Why 
 why," she stammered, "what will Miss Timp- 
 kins say?" 
 
 "What will Sereny Dodd's poor weary head 
 rest on this night, you'd better ask !" reproached 
 Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 "This night!" repeated Mrs. Wells. "But,
 
 Sereny, ain't you fearful Mrs. Waldron will 
 think you're presenting the pillow for good?" 
 
 "Shan't 'low her the chance," retorted Mrs. 
 Dodd. "You be sure to tack a note to the out- 
 side of the bundle, saying the pillow ain't ours to 
 give, that it belongs to the Home, and won't she 
 send it back first thing to-morrow morning!" 
 
 "My, but you are clever!" applauded Mrs. 
 Wells. "But I'll plump out the cover with my 
 pillow, Sereny. I'll fold up our two petticoats to 
 sleep on to-night. No, no," as Mrs. Dodd would 
 have protested, "tain't no hardship for a scrap of 
 a thing like me! I'd just love to!" 
 
 Eleven o'clock was striking when little Mrs. 
 Wells, awaking from uneasy slumbers, sat up in 
 bed. 
 
 "Ouch!" said she. "Them sasser buttons on 
 Sereny's petticoat is some ann'ying! It's lucky," 
 giggling, "her poor weary head's on her pillow as 
 usual." 
 
 A moment later, she slipped to the floor and 
 padded quietly across to the mantel. Then scur- 
 rying back, she cuddled down under the bedclothes, 
 and murmured in great content : 
 
 " 'It's more blessed to give than receive !' Se- 
 reny and me's done it faithful. And from the 
 feelings of them stockings of ours, jamfull from 
 knee to toe, and mine being the- littlest, things 
 peeking out from the top, seem zif other folkses 
 ain't going to lack the Christmas blessing 
 neither!" She closed her soft blue eyes. "Now
 
 174. SERENA AND SAMANTHA 
 
 I'd best go straight to sleep, so's to be up bright 
 and early in the morning to wish Sereny a Merry 
 Christmas and Happy New Year!" 
 
 THE END
 
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