"I mean it, uncle. I never was further from talking nonsense. We will
work here, on the old farm, and save our home from strangers, if you
will only be patient and give us time. I can take charge of the hands
and the crops. Elizabeth will manage the house and garden. In fact
I find myself longing every minute to begin. It will be something to
occupy us and divert us from gloomy thoughts;" and she glanced at the
somber garments that told of recent bereavement.

"But you can't stay here without a protector," objected her uncle,
getting downright wrathful as he felt inwardly conscious that he would
be obliged to yield. He had seen his niece Margaret have her own way
more than once. Still he must fight for it.

"You just take my advice and do what I said at first. Let somebody take
the place and work off the debt--in a way, you understand. You can look
about for a music class, and Lizzie here can get a position in the
public schools. Of course you know you are welcome at my house as long
as you need--"

"Now, listen, uncle, do," broke in Margaret, catching his arm with
clasped hands, as a persuasive cadence crept into her resolute tones. "I
know I can learn to do what other women are doing all over the land. Not
so many Southern women, I grant you; we are a spoiled lot as ever lived,
and are foolishly ashamed to work. But we are no better than our sisters
of the north and west, and I, for one, do not care a whit what people
may think about it. As to being afraid to stay here, that would be
silly. Why, I am not so very many years from thirty and Elizabeth is
every bit of twenty-three. Quite old maids, you see;--bachelor maids, if
you please. The neighborhood is thickly settled; Rock and Don are the
best watch dogs ever seen, and the men in the cabins with their families