making lace as a pleasing change from unending quilts.

She sat now, in a low rocker by the window, with one foot upon a
wobbly stool. A marvellous cover, of Aunt Hitty's making, which
dated back to her frivolous and girlish days, was underneath. Nobody
ever saw it, however, and the gaudy woollen roses blushed unseen. A
white linen cover, severely plain, was put upon the footstool every
Wednesday and every Saturday, year in and year out.

Unlike most good housewives, Miss Mehitable used her parlour every
day in the week. She was obliged to, in fact, for it was the only
room in her house, except Mr. Thorpe's, which commanded an
unobstructed view of the crossroads. A cover of brown denim
protected the carpet, and the chairs were shrouded in shapeless
habiliments of cambric and calico. For the rest, however, the room
was mildly cheerful, and had a habitable look which was distinctly
uncommon in village parlours.

There was a fireplace, which was dusted and scrubbed at intervals,
but never, under any circumstances, profaned by a fire. It was
curtained by a gay remnant of figured plush, however, so nobody
missed the fire. White and gold china vases stood on the mantel, and
a little china dog, who would never have dared to bark had he been
alive, so chaste and humble of countenance was he, sat forever
between the two vases, keeping faithful guard over Miss Mehitable's
treasures.

The silver coffin plates of the Smiths, matted with black, and deeply
framed, occupied the place of honour over the mantel. On the
marble-topped table in the exact centre of the room was a basket of