"I hardly think that will do," answered Aunt Abby, knowing as she did that the three _R_'s comprised the full extent of an education at the Corners. "What she needs is a chance to mingle with more people than she can here, and learn the ways of the world, as well as books. Her mind is bright. I notice she is reading every chance she can get, and you know my ideas about education. For her to stay here, even with schooling at the Corners, is to let her grow up like a hoyden. Now what would you think if I took her back to Christmas Cove? There is a better school there. She will meet and mingle with more people, and improve faster." "I dunno what Judson'll say," returned Aunt Mandy, somewhat sadly. "He's got so wonted to her, he'll be heart-broke, I'm afraid." And so the consultation closed. The matter did not end here, for Aunt Abby, "sot in her way," as Uncle Jud had often said, yet in reality only advocating what she felt was best for this homeless waif, now began a persuasive campaign. She enlarged on Christmas Cove, its excellent school and capable master, its social advantages and cultured people, who boasted a public library and debating society, and especially its summer attractions, when a few dozen city people sojourned there. Its opportunities for church-going also came in for praise, though if this worthy woman had known how Chip felt about that feature, it would have been left unmentioned. "The girl needs religious influence and contact with believers, as well as schooling," she said later on to Aunt Mandy, "and that must be considered. Here she can have none, and will grow up a heathen. I certainly think she ought to go back with me for a year or two, at least, and then we can decide what is best." "Thar's one thing ye ain't thought 'bout," Mandy answered, "an' that's her sense o' obligation. From what she's told me, 'twas that that made her run away from whar she was, 'n' she'd run away from here if she didn't feel she was earnin' her keep. She's peculiar in that way, 'n' can't stand feelin' she's dependent. How you goin' to get round that?" "Just as you do," returned Aunt Abby, not at all discouraged. "We live about as you do, as you know, only Mr. Bemis has the mill; and she can help me about the house, as she does here." But Chip's own consent to this new plan was the hardest to obtain. "I'll do just as Uncle Jud wants me to," she responded, when Aunt Abby proposed the change; "but I'd hate to go 'way from here. It's all the real sort o' home I've ever known, and they've been so good to me I'll have to cry when I leave it. You'd let me come here once in a while, wouldn't ye?" As she seemed ready to cry at this moment, Aunt Abby wisely dropped the subject then and there; in fact, she did not allude to it again in Chip's presence.