strong-minded widow was the only woman the diminutive lady really
feared.

* * * * *

Presently there was a little flutter, a rustling of silken robes, more
kissing and hand-shaking, and "good bye, loves," and the little party
dispersed.

* * * * *

"Widowed and fatherless; God pity them," came in a low voice from a
sad-faced woman, clad in the sable robes of mourning. It was that
"distant branch of the family," none other than Mrs. Crane's own widowed
sister, for whom the patriotic contractor had so generously provided
with a home, and one dollar fifty per week. Tears were falling upon the
work before her, but she brushed them away quietly as a shrill voice
beside her cried,

"Blubbering again, Jane Phelps, and Lucinda's new pearl-colored silk,
that I paid five dollars a yard for, in your lap. You miserable,
ill-tempered, sulky thing; if you have soiled it, I'll make you starve
it out, and take it out of your wages, beside!"

"You could not make me suffer more, whatever you might do, for I am the
most wretched, pitiable creature in existence," sobbed the woman.

"Good enough for you," was the response; "'as you make your bed, so you
must lie.' I always knew, for all your pretty, pink and white face, and
meek ways, you'd come to grief. You could always fool everybody but me,