the household, and later an indispensable one.
Poor Mrs. Bennett finally came to the end of things temporal. "Dying is the first piece of good luck I ever had," she said to Mr. Grubb. "If it turns out that I’ve brought a curse upon an innocent creature, I’d rather go and meet my punishment halfway than stay here and see it worked out to the end."
"'In my Father’s house are many mansions,'" stammered Mr. Grubb, who had never before administered spiritual consolation.
She shook her head. "If I can only get rid of this world, it’s all I ask," she said; "if the other one isn’t any better, why, it can’t be any worse! Feel under the mattress and you’ll find money enough to last three or four years. It’s all she’ll ever get, for she hasn’t a soul now to look to for help. That’s the way we human beings arrange things,—we, or the Lord, or the Evil One, or whoever it is; we bring a puzzle into the world, and then leave it for other people to work out—if they can! Who’ll work out this one? Who’ll work out this one? Perhaps she’ll die before
