“Wall, if I won’t give it up now,” said Miss Nancy. “As good an abolutionist as you used to be, make the poor colored folks wash the floor with a rag, on their hands and knees! It can’t be that you indulge a hope, if you’ll do such things!” John made Miss Nancy no answer, but turning to his mother, he said, “I’m in earnest, mother, about your carrying so many useless things. _We_ don’t want them. Our house is full now, and besides that, Mrs. Livingstone is very particular about the style of her furniture, and I am afraid yours would hardly come up to her ideas of elegance.” “That chist of drawers,” said Mrs. Nichols, pointing to an old-fashioned, high-topped bureau, “cost an ocean of money when ’twas new, and if the brasses on it was rubbed up, ’Tilda couldn’t tell ’em from gold, unless she’s seen more on’t than I have, which ain’t much likely, bein’ I’m double her age.” “The chest does very well for you, I admit,” said John; “but we have neither use nor room for it, so if you can’t sell it, why, give it away, or burn it, one or the other.” Mrs. Nichols saw he was decided, and forthwith ’Lena was dispatched to Widow Fisher’s, to see if she would take it at half price. The widow had no fancy for second-hand articles, consequently Miss Nancy was told “to keep it, and maybe she’d sometime have a chance to send it to Kentucky. It won’t come amiss, I know, s’posin’ they be well on’t. I b’lieve in lookin’ out for a rainy day. I can teach ’Tilda economy yet,” whispered Mrs. Nichols, glancing toward the room where John sat, whistling, whittling, and pondering in his own mind the best way if reconciling his wife to what could not well be helped. ’Lena, who was naturally quick-sighted, had partially divined the cause of her uncle’s moodiness. The more she saw of him the better she liked him, and she began to think that she would willingly try to cure herself of the peculiarities which evidently annoyed him, if he would only notice her a little, which he was not likely to do. He seldom noticed any child, much less little ’Lena, who he fancied was ignorant as well as awkward; but he did not know her. One day when, as usual, he sat whittling and thinking, ’Lena approached him softly, and laying her hand upon his knee, said rather timidly, “Uncle, I wish you’d tell me something about my cousins.” “What about them,” he asked, somewhat gruffly, for it grated upon his feelings to hear his daughters called cousin by her. “I want to know how they look, and which one I shall like the best,” continued ’Lena. “You’ll like Anna the best,” said her uncle, and ’Lena asked, “Why! What sort of a girl is she? Does she love to go to school and study?” “None too well, I reckon,” returned her uncle, adding that “there were not many little girls who did.” “Why _I_ do,” said ’Lena, and her uncle, stopping for a moment his whittling, replied rather scornfully, “_You_! I should like to know what you ever studied besides the spelling-book!”