"Oh, I've no doubt but what Miss Hungerford meant kindly," said Madeline, with the lightness she could so suddenly assume. "It's a mighty queer world, that's all!" she added presently, rising and putting on her bonnet; "and managed very queerly, for I suppose it is managed. I'm going out, ma. Those children have split my head with their noise to-day, and I promised Patty I'd come in and sit awhile. Now, if I've been cross and crazy, don't you and teacher talk me over," she said, looking back and trying hard to smile--and she did look very tired and white, as though she had been suffering--"and if those children wake up and begin to squall"--with a glance towards the little bedroom--"let 'em squall. If I've wished it once to-day, I have a hundred times, that they was the other side of sunset!" "I wish you'd step into Lihu's--such a poor, sufferin' creetur as he is--with these," said Grandma, appearing from the pantry with some eggs in her apron. "I wish you could take the consolations of religion with you, Madeline," she continued gravely, as Mrs. Philander was closing the door. "Lord, ma! my pocket's full now!" exclaimed Madeline. "Besides, they might break the eggs!" And the latch fell down with a click. "I wish Madeline was a believer," Grandma sighed, purposely rattling about the cover of the stove to wake up Grandpa, who had fallen asleep in his chair. Grandpa looked at me, and smiled feebly, then roused himself to meet this supposed challenge like a man. "Believer, ma?" said he; "why ain't I a believer? As old Cap'n Gates said to me on his last voyage"--Grandpa yawned alarmingly (poor old man! he was but half awake), as this unlucky reminiscence of his sea-faring life flitted through his brain--"says he, 'I read my almanick and my Bible, both, Bijonah;' says he, 'I read 'em both, and I believe there's a great deal o' truth in both on 'em.'" "Thar, pa!" said Grandma, solemnly, "you'd _better_ go to sleep! you'd _better_ close your eyes, Bijonah Keeler! What if you should never open 'em again on earthly scenes, and them words on your lips,--and you a perfessor!" Grandpa scratched his head in drowsy bewilderment, passed his hand once or twice over the coarse stubble on his face, and again committed himself helplessly to the sweet obliviousness of slumber. I drew my chair up confidentially close to Grandma Keeler's, and rested my arms on the table as I looked into her face.