“Then I will set up a stocking of cotton yarn for you to-morrow and show you how. When I was your age I knit all my own stockings, and always had knitting to catch up when I’d nothing else to do. Girls then didn’t sit with their hands idle much, I can tell you,” and her knitting needles clicked loud and fast. Thus was Posey introduced to her new home. And that night as she sat in her tiny room, in a frame of mind it must be confessed somewhat depressed by the formidable personality of Mrs. Hagood, she ate one of the russet apples, which she had hidden in a drawer in the stand, and felt cheered and comforted by the spirit of kindly sympathy it represented, together with its mute assurance that in the household she would find at least one friend. CHAPTER IV THE NEW LIFE The next morning Posey was awakened by the voice of Mrs. Hagood at her door, “Come, Posey; time to get up, and be spry about it, too.” The clock was just striking six as she came out of her room, but the kitchen was already warm and Mrs. Hagood in a loose calico wrapper was busy about the breakfast. “I don’t want you to dawdle in bed,” was her salutation. “I’m stirring myself mornings and I want folks about me to stir, too. Hurry and wash you, then take this dish and go down cellar for some cucumber pickles. They are in that row on the left hand side, the third jar. Now mind and remember, for I don’t want to keep telling things over to you.” As she returned with the pickles Mr. Hagood came in with a pail of foaming milk, and Posey, who in her household experience had been accustomed to see milk measured by the pint, or more often the half-pint, gave a little cry of wonder and delight. “I want ter know?” and Mr. Hagood’s thin, kindly face wrinkled from mouth to eyes in a smile. “Never saw so much milk as this at once before. Why I get this pail full every night and morning, and I calc’late Brindle’ll do still better when she gets out to grass.” As he spoke he had strained out a cupful of the fresh, warm milk and handed it to Posey, saying, “Drink that now, an’ see if it don’t taste good.” “What are you doing, Elnathan?” demanded Mrs. Hagood, who was skillfully turning some eggs she was frying. “Wal, now, Almiry, I’m just givin’ the child what she never had before in her life, a drink o’ fresh, warm milk. I thought, Almiry,” with an accent of mild reproof, “you’d like her to have what milk she wanted to drink.” “You know as well as anybody,” was her tart retort, “that I never scrimped anybody or anything around me yet of victuals; Posey can have all the milk she wants to drink with her breakfast, but there’s no use for her to be stoppin’ her work and spendin’ time to drink it now, or you to be lettin’ the cream rise on the milk before it’s strained, to watch her.”