"Was his name Joseph?" "It was Joe; father used to call him Joe." I read to her from Ned's letter what related to her brother. "I'm most afraid it's a dream," said Rhoda after a brief silence. "Over at the poor-house I used to have such good dreams, and then I'd wake up out of them. After I came here I used to be afraid it was a dream; but I didn't wake out of that. Perhaps I shall see Joe again; who knows?" * * * * * From this time a change came over Rhoda. She begged as a privilege to learn to do everything that a woman can do about a house. "I do declare, Miss Kate," said Dorothy one day, after displaying a grand array of freshly baked loaves, wearing the golden-brown tint that hints at such savory sweetness, "that girl, for a white girl, is going to make a most a splendid cook. I never touched this bread, and just you see! ain't it perfindiculur wonderful?" Soon after, I found Rhoda, with her dress tidily pinned out of harm's way, standing at a barrel, and poking vigorously with a stick longer than herself. "What now, Rhoda! what are you doing there?" "Come here and look at the soap, Miss Kate. I made it every bit myself; ain't it going to be beautiful?" "Why do you care to do such things, Rhoda?" "I'll tell you," in a low voice; "perhaps when Joe comes home, some time he'll buy himself a little place and let me keep house for him; then I shall want to know how to do everything." "Rhoda, I believe you can do everything already." "No, I can't wring," looking piteously from one little hand to the other. "I can iron cute, but I can't wring. Dorothy says that is one thing I shall have to give up, unless I can make my hands grow. Do you suppose I could?" "No; you must make Joe buy you a wringer. Can you make butter?" "O yes, when the churning isn't large. Likely Joe won't keep more than one cow." I looked at the eager little thing, wondering if her hope would ever be realized. She divined my thought, and glanced at me wistfully. "You think this is a dream; you think I shall wake up. "No, no," I answered; "I wonder what Joe will think when he sees what a mite of a sister he has. He'll make you stand round, Rhoda, you may be sure of that." "May be he isn't any larger himself," she responded, with a ready, bright smile. * * * * * Brother Ned's next letter brought the welcome tidings that he hoped to come home the ensuing August, and that Joseph Breck would probably come at the same time.