Judith heard the words: the wonderful words, and in her fashion, made a commentary upon them: when things were not so, and couldn’t be so, God told you, so that you needn’t be too disappointed; he wouldn’t let you hope too long for things _and build on them_—that is, if you were not wilful about them. You might think just a little while about a thing, and not be silly about it, and if it were not so you would soon find out. She had found out about boarding-school—only she had been pretty bad about that all by herself, and did not deserve to have Miss Marion for a teacher. _Was Miss Marion paid?_ She had never thought of it until this moment. It was “rag carpet afternoon.” Judith coaxed Aunt Rody to allow her to take her half-finished ball and pile of rags up garret again, after Miss Marion came, but Aunt Rody sternly refused: “When I was a little girl I did my stent, company or no company. You can see Miss Kenney after you are through.” “But I am so slow,” sighed the rag-carpet sewer. “Be fast, then,” was the grim advice. Judith and her carpet rags were on the floor of the entry between the two bed-rooms; Aunt Rody was sitting in her bed-room in a rocker combing her long gray hair; the door of Aunt Affy’s room opposite was open; Aunt Affy was seated in her rocker mending the sleeve of a coat for Cephas; Marion Kenney in her privileged fashion had come into the back yard and knocked at the open entry door. Lifting her head, Judith saw her in the rush-bottomed chair; she had thrown her hat aside, her face was toward Aunt Affy. Marion Kenney was Judith’s ideal; she was such a dainty maiden, with brown hair and brown eyes, the most bewitching ways, and so true. It was happiness enough for Judith to sit or stand near her to watch and to listen; and, this afternoon, she had to sit in the entry far away from her and sew carpet rags. “Aunt Rody,” called Marion across the hall, in an audacious voice, “may Judith bring her ball and rags in here?” “Affy doesn’t want that room cluttered up,” was the slow, ungracious response. “Oh, yes, I do,” said Aunt Affy, eagerly. “I like it cluttered up.” “Go then, Judith,” was the severe permission; “you are all children together, I verily believe.” With a merry “Thank you” Marion sprang to help gather the rags, and deposited them and Judith on the rag carpet between herself and Aunt Affy. If it had not been for the rags and the ball that grew so tediously, there would have been nothing in the world for Judith to wish for. “Aunt Affy, I brought a question to-day, as I always do,” began Marion, and Judith’s fingers stayed that she might hear the question and the answer. She did not know how to ask Marion’s questions, but she did know how to understand something of Aunt Affy’s answers. In her spiritual and intellectual appreciation she was far ahead of anyone’s knowledge of her. She had a talent for receptivity and, girl as she was, for discipline.