“That minute you spoke and looked just like your Grandma West, when the outlying members of the family tried to argue her into giving up, and going down to winter at Gilead, after grandpa died. Gentle, but set as fast as bricks in Portland cement. Of course you can do the work for a while anyway (I did the same, and more too, at your age), if you can only get the knack of turning it off, and I don’t know of any one more likely to help you out than Mrs. Peck. That is, unless I postpone my going for a couple of weeks, and do it myself,” and Miss Keith paused with an eager look that said she would ask nothing better; for the advent of the family, instead of making her feel out of place, had already made her reasons for the change grow vague and hazy, and the departure itself seemed not an escape, but more like an eviction. “You are very kind to offer, but that is impossible, you know,” answered Brooke. “In the last letter you wrote me, regretting the delay, you said that you must _absolutely_ leave on the 12th, and that will be to-morrow. It is better too that we should begin at once before Adam and I grow lazy from seeing you take the lead and being accustomed to our liberty. How much does Mrs. Peck charge, and where does she live? I think I had best go to see her to-day while you are here to be with mother.” Thus Miss Keith, by no act but her own, had literally closed the door upon herself, which fact she was clear-sighted enough to recognize, and bore herself accordingly, making haste to reply: “Mrs. Peck has six dollars a week when she cares for mother, child, and the house, but when it is just ‘accommodating’ with a grown girl to help out and take steps, she has three, and must be called for and returned home. She would jump at the chance to come here for three dollars, for there have been next to no births this winter, and she has either been at home most of the time, or else at her daughter’s, where she is kept busy and, of course, gets no pay. She is very intimate with Mrs. Enoch Fenton, who lives just round the turn on the Windy Hill road, not half a mile from here. You can go up there for a walk after dinner, as I suppose you’d rather settle your own business. No, you can’t go this morning, no one disturbs Mrs. Fenton before dinner; you see, situated as she is, she must have all the forenoon uninterrupted for her work—she manages wonderfully, but if any one comes in before it is done, it upsets her for the day. Why, the neighbours would no more think of calling on Mrs. Fenton in the morning than they would of visiting the minister on Saturday night!” Brooke was about to ask how this particular woman was differently circumstanced from her neighbours, when Miss Keith again took up the domestic thread:—