"We like them pretty well, but we'd rather you'd have them," Maizie went on generously but with unswerving purpose. "And till you get used to children I'll come over every day and wash and dress them." Mrs. Reynolds' face was growing pinker and pinker. She continued gazing at the boy and the girl, and from them back to Suzanna, her favorite. But whatever emotions surged through her she found for the moment no words to express them. At last she spoke in a whimsical way. "It's not much you're asking, little girl, to take and raise and educate two growing children on Reynolds' wages." And then she blushed furiously and glanced half apologetically at Mrs. Procter. For what, indeed, was Mrs. Procter's work? With superb defiance toward mathematical rules, she was daily engaged in proving that though those rules contended that two and two make four, if you have backbone and ingenuity two and two make five, and could by stretching be compelled to make six. "I must be going," said Mrs. Reynolds. She gathered up carefully the paper pattern, folded its long length into several pieces, opened her hand bag and thrust the small package within. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Procter. I think I can manage nicely now," she said, as she snapped the bag together. Mrs. Procter repeated the conversation to her husband that evening, as, the children in bed, they sat together in the little parlor. "And it might be the most wonderful happening in the world, both for the poor children and for Mrs. Reynolds," said Mrs. Procter. Mr. Procter did not answer. His wife, watching him keenly, realized that he was troubled. She put down her sewing. "Tell me, Richard, what's gone wrong," she said. He hesitated, caught her hand, held it tight. "I might as well tell you, dear. John Massey has bought out Job Doane's hardware shop." "Bought him out?" "Yes. No one seems to know why. He paid a good price and he'll probably sell again. I don't know, I'm sure." He pressed his hand wearily to his head. "What's to be done, dear? What's to be done? There's no other opening for me in Anchorville." She rallied to help him as always. "At least we'll not meet trouble till it's full upon us. There's always some way found." And, as always, he brightened beneath her touch, let hope spring again within his heart. "Shall you work upstairs tonight?" she asked, knowing that companionship with his beloved machine closed his mind to other matters. "If you will come upstairs with me," he said. "Can you leave your mending? I want you close by." She felt strongly and joyously his need of her. "I will come," she said. They were on the way upstairs, treading carefully that the lightest sleeper, Suzanna, might not be awakened, when the hurried peal came at the front door. They stopped. "Go on to the attic," said Mrs. Procter; "it's perhaps Mrs. Reynolds come to borrow something," so Mr. Procter went on. Mrs. Procter ran lightly down.