"About your folks? I heard tell they was going to Hobarttown to live. They ain't any great favourites in Boonville just now, I can tell you. But, Rhoda, you'll have company. Boss and his wife's going down." "I am so glad!" said Rhoda. "I did dread going alone. Jeduthun, what has become of Aunt Hannah's cow, and the cats, and all?" "Well, General Dent, he bought old Snowball of Mr. Weightman. The old man was just a-going to sell her to a drover, when the general came riding up, and kind of rescued her. Oh, she's well off, the old cow is. And Kissy, she's got Molly and Fuzzyball." "Dear old Molly! Jeduthun, if Molly has any more kittens, and you are going to town some time, will you take one to Miss Carpenter at 'The Home'? She is so fond of cats." "Of course I will. Then they was good to you there?" "Yes, indeed; nobody could be better. And, Jeduthun, please persuade the Boonville folks to send them a nice box this fall. What has become of Aunt Hannah's house?" "Oh, it's all torn down, and Mr. Weightman is building a mill on the place—means to run us all out, I suppose. Here comes boss, just at the last minute as usual. I never did see such a man. Well, good-bye, and good luck to you." Under her altered circumstances, Rhoda rather shrank from meeting Mr. and Mrs. Antis. She had imbibed a strong dread of "putting herself forward," which, like a great deal of seeming humility, was nothing but "pride turned inside out." But she could not perceive that they made the least difference in their manner to her, even after they heard that she was going to live out as a servant. "It is an abominable shame," declared Mrs. Antis, warmly. "Not but that it is creditable in you to do anything you can, Rhoda, and I am sure you will turn out all right; but I wish you had come to me instead of going away so far. Why won't you come now? You would just be one of the family, you know." "You are very kind, Mrs. Antis," said Rhoda, "but there are several things in the way. One is that I have promised Miss Hardy to stay a year with her, and the other—Well, Mrs. Antis, the truth is—I suppose it is foolish pride, but the truth is, I would rather live out anywhere else than in Boonville." "I understand," said Mrs. Antis. "But, Rhoda, I shouldn't wish nor expect you to be a servant; I should want you to come as a daughter or younger sister, and just be one of ourselves. I always did like you, ever since you came to Boonville; and if it hadn't been for the sickness and death of Mr. Antis's sister, which cramped us for means at that time, we should have sent for you at once. Of course I should expect you to help me with the work, as Mary used to, but that would be all." Rhoda sat still, utterly overcome by this unexpected proposition. "You mustn't think this is any sudden notion of Cassy's," said Mr. Antis, misinterpreting Rhoda's silence. "We have often talked it over since we knew your circumstances, and I don't see why we shouldn't suit each other very well."