that I like. She's a horrid old woman."

"I don't mean to care," said Jean disconsolately; "but some people
always have to tell me I'm a nobody."

"No, you aren't, you're somebody," contradicted Polly. "And as
long as you're splendid yourself, I don't see what difference it
makes whether you have forty cents or forty million dollars, and
whether you carpenter for a living or doctor for it,--or beg for
it, the way she does."

They were silent for a minute, and then Polly added, with a
laugh,--

"There's one thing about it, we'll have some fun out of her, for
she's going to stay to lunch, and she's so funny at the table. She
minces so, and she never refuses anything to eat without telling
just why she doesn't like it. One time, mamma offered her some
pie, and she said, 'Oh, my, no! I never eat it. Pie-crust is
grease packed in flour.' I'm so glad you are here to-day."

When the girls went into the house at lunch time, Miss Bean was in
the midst of a stream of gossip. Her usual surroundings gave rise
to no more varied subjects than the personal appearance of her
companions, and the routine of the housework, in which they all
had a share. Doubtless it was partly for this reason that the
worthy woman made the most of her brief outings, to gather up any
bits of information which might serve to enliven the days to come,
and render her an object of admiration in the community where she
was passing her time. In spite of Aunt Jane's frowns, and the