wide ledge with a pale pink morning-glory kissing her cheek, and a savory odor reaching her nose.
"Oh, I was mumbling some verses. I often do when I work, it sort of helps me along; but it must sound dreadful silly," and Becky blushed as if caught in some serious fault.
"I do it, and it's a great comfort when I lie awake. I should think you would want something to help you along, you work so hard. Do you like it, Becky?"
The familiar name, the kind tone, made the plain face brighten with pleasure as its owner said, while she carefully filled a pretty bowl with a golden mixture rich with fresh eggs and country milk,—
"No, I don't, but I ought to. Mother isn't as strong as she used to be, and there's a sight to do, and the children to be brought up, and the mortgage to be paid off; so if I don't fly round, who will? We are doing real well now, for Mr. Walker manages the farm and gives us our share, so our living is all right; then boarders in summer and my school in winter helps a deal, and every year the boys can do more, so I'd be a real sinner to complain if I do have to step lively all day."
Becky smiled as she spoke, and straightened her bent shoulders as if settling her burden for another trudge along the path of duty.
"Do you keep school? Why, how old are you, Becky?" asked Emily, much impressed by this new discovery.
"I'm eighteen. I took the place of a teacher who got sick last fall, and I kept school all winter. Folks
