At which sally Margaret laughed outright, adding gaily that there would
be time enough and to spare for matrimony.

"I am too busy now to even think of it. By and by I shall have the
finest of bees and fancy poultry. Already my grape arbor is thriving.
I sell quantities of fruit and berries. But my stronghold is farm
literature; I devour it at night, while Libbie reads society bits in the
village weekly, or cons the city daily. Poor Lib! It goes right hard
with her to draggle her skirts in the dewy strawberry beds; but she
feels consoled when I fetch up the till! What misers we be, hoarding our
strong box!"

So these heroic girls are going on, the respected of all observers.
Their example has encouraged others to throw off the shackles of
"Southern caste" and be independent of unwilling relatives more favored
by fortune. The mortgage is not yet entirely lifted, but it will be. The
bluegrass pastures of the fine old estate have been given over to the
grazing of blooded horses and cattle, at so much per head, thereby
counting in a greatly increased revenue.

Margaret's latest venture is a fine young thoroughbred, which the
knowing ones predict will prove a gold mine. So mote it be.

Uncle Abner is patient and helpful. He has long ago felt like hiding
"his diminished head," and is proud of his young nieces. They have saved
the old homestead where three generations of the family were born. Alone
they have struggled, protected by the God of the orphan, whose glorious
sunshine and rain so abundantly bless their labors!