“_We’ve_ got work enough for a week to come, cleaning up the old place,” exclaimed Susan Palmer when ’Sias had disappeared. “Never mind, mother. There are ten of us to do it, and we shall soon get through; and oh, think what a lovely, roomy old house this is; and how beautiful outside. The trees overshadow the roof, and from the back windows you can almost stretch out your hand and touch the rocky precipice,” said Em., brightly. “Let’s see, now,” said John, looking around himself. “There are four rooms on this floor. This one we are in is the kitchen, in course; and well supplied it is with cupboards and dressers. The room next to this must be your bedroom, Susan, my dear, because it will be convenient to the kitchen, and, besides, it will save your back, running up and down stairs. Across the passage is two rooms—the front one, opposite your bedroom, must be for the parlor, and the back one, opposite this kitchen, for our family room. How rich we are in space, Susan. Plenty of space and air for all the family. What a blessing! Well, and now the four rooms upstairs. Em., you shall take your choice there, and have a room all to yourself.” “Oh, father, if I might choose, and mother pleases, I would like to have the attic. It is all one great room, running from front to back, you know, and I don’t mind climbing.” “Very well, then your mother must sort the four chambers upstairs among the children and the two old women as she sees fit. Now, who in the world is this?” exclaimed John, as a little, old colored woman, who looked like ’Sias in petticoats, entered the kitchen. “Ebenin’, mist’ess; ebenin’, marster; ebenin’, young uns. Hopes you’ll ’scuse me. I jus’ come to look in on y’ all, to see how you’re gettin’ ’long.” “You are quite welcome. Take a seat,” said John. “Who are you, and what is your name?” inquired Susan. “I’m yer Uncle ’Sias’ onliest sister, Aunt Sally, yer know, honey. Yes, honey, Aunt Sally; that’s my name. I only come to see yer all outen good will, honey. I don’t mean no harm, honey; I never does mean no harm. I never does nothin’ to nobody,” meekly explained the little old woman as she sank into an old-fashioned stuffed easy-chair that Em. placed for her. “You are ’Sias’ sister?” inquired Susan. “Yes, honey, Uncle ’Sias’ sister, honey; Aunt Sally. But you needn’t be feared of me, honey. I never does nothin’ to nobody.” “You don’t look so old as ’Sias,” said John, scrutinizing the little, old woman. “Yes, marster, you’re right, honey. ’Sias do look old since he married that young gal, Sereny. But he don’t mean no harm, honey. He never does nothin’ to nobody.” “’Sias says he’s a hundred and fifty years old, ‘more or less,’” laughed Em. “I know ’Sias do say that. I don’t know what make him say that. ’Sias ain’t no more’n eighty-five. That’s my age, and we is twins.” “You and ’Sias twins?” exclaimed Susan.