"Yes, 'a dead sorrow is better than a living one,' the old proverb says. I have always that feeling about the deaths of people that I love, especially young people. They are so safe. They never can change for the worse. But come, sit down and make yourself comfortable, child. What can I find to entertain you?" "I came to entertain you, and not to be entertained," said Rhoda, smiling. "Shall I read to you? I like to read aloud." "Yes, do, if you please. There is a new magazine on the table with some interesting articles in it. Mrs. Campion sent it in yesterday." "Mrs. Campion!" repeated Rhoda. "Don't I remember her? Didn't she have a little girl named Rose?" "Yes, an adopted child." "What has become of her?" "Oh, she is a fine young lady, and is going to be married, they tell me. Mrs. Campion has several others, but Rosy has always been the pet, I think." Rhoda sighed deeply, but said nothing. She read for a long time, till Miss Brown said,— "There! That will do. I am sure you must be tired. Besides, I want to ask you about some people I used to know in Boonville—the Weightmans. Hannah Weightman was one of my intimate friends when we both went to the Phelps academy fifty years ago. Is she alive, do you know?" "Aunt Hannah Weightman? Yes, indeed—at least she was a few weeks ago," said Rhoda. "Why do you call her aunt?" asked Miss Brown. "She was Mrs. Bowers's aunt, you know," said Rhoda; "I was always taught to call her so. She was my Sunday-school teacher all the time I lived in Boonville. Oh, what would I give to see her?" said Rhoda, her eyes filling with sudden tears. "Oh, I wonder what she said when she came back and found me gone?" "Then she did not know of it—of this change, I mean?" "No, ma'am, she was away. I don't believe it would have happened if she had been at home. And yet I don't know. She never had half as much influence as Uncle Jacob, though she is so good and knows so much. Uncle Jacob don't know about anything but money, and don't care for anything else, but everybody gives way to him because he is rich. No, not everybody, either, but some people do. I heard Jeduthun Cooke say to him,— "'Mr. Weightman, I'd rather be Sammy Makay than you any day.' "You see, Sammy is a kind of natural, but just as good as he can be. "'I'd rather be Sammy than you,' said Jeduthun, 'whether you take it now or a hundred years from now.' "Oh how angry Uncle Jacob was! He tried to make Mr. Francis discharge Jeduthun, but Mr. Francis would almost as soon burn down the mills." "And what did Uncle Jacob say to your coming away?" asked Miss Brown, with an appearance of interest.