“Your aunt Dallett is a very self-contained person,” observed Mrs. Hand. “Oh, very!” exclaimed the elderly niece, with a pleased look. “Aunt Cynthy laughs, an’ says she expects the time will come when age ’ll compel her to have me move up an’ take care of her; and last time I was there she looked up real funny, an’ says, ‘I do’ know, Abby; I’m most afeard sometimes that I feel myself beginnin’ to look for’ard to it!’ ’Twas a good deal, comin’ from Aunt Cynthy, an’ I so esteemed it.” “She ought to have you there now,” said Mrs. Hand. “You’d both make a savin’ by doin’ it; but I don’t expect she needs to save as much as some. There! I know just how you both feel. I like to have my own home an’ do everything just my way too.” And the friends laughed, and looked at each other affectionately. “There was old Mr. Nathan Dunn,—left no debts an’ no money when he died,” said Mrs. Hand. “’Twas over to his niece’s last summer. He had a little money in his wallet, an’ when the bill for funeral expenses come in there was just exactly enough; some item or other made it come to so many dollars an’ eighty-four cents, and, lo an’ behold! there was eighty-four cents in a little separate pocket beside the neat fold o’ bills, as if the old gentleman had known beforehand. His niece couldn’t help laughin’, to save her; she said the old gentleman died as methodical as he lived. She didn’t expect he had any money, an’ was prepared to pay for everything herself; she’s very well off.” “’Twas funny, certain,” said Miss Pendexter. “I expect he felt comfortable, knowin’ he had that money by him. ’Tis a comfort, when all ’s said and done, ‘specially to folks that ’s gettin’ old.” A sad look shadowed her face for an instant, and then she smiled and rose to take leave, looking expectantly at her hostess to see if there were anything more to be said. “I hope to come out square myself,” she said, by way of farewell pleasantry; “but there are times when I feel doubtful.” Mrs. Hand was evidently considering something, and waited a moment or two before she spoke. “Suppose we both walk up to see your aunt Dallett, New Year’s Day, if it ain’t too windy and the snow keeps off?” she proposed. “I couldn’t rise the hill if ’twas a windy day. We could take a hearty breakfast an’ start in good season; I’d rather walk than ride, the road’s so rough this time o’ year.” “Oh, what a person you are to think o’ things! I did so dread goin’ ’way up there all alone,” said Abby Pendexter. “I’m no hand to go off alone, an’ I had it before me, so I really got to dread it. I do so enjoy it after I get there, seein’ Aunt Cynthy, an’ she’s always so much better than I expect to find her.” “Well, we’ll start early,” said Mrs. Hand cheerfully; and so they parted. As Miss Pendexter went down the foot-path to the gate, she sent grateful thoughts back to the little sitting-room she had just left.