At last all the old curtains were down, and the new ones up in their place. Wythie had patiently climbed up and down the step-ladder, skilfully avoiding Tobias, who liked to sit on the second step from the top; had altered pins, and supported the heavy material while Aunt Azraella altered; her natural desire to please increased by her resolve to be bold and dare when all was done. And when it was done she had something of her reward, for Aunt Azraella actually patted her on the shoulder, and said: "You have been very helpful, Oswyth. I was wise to insist on having you; Roberta would never have been so patient and thorough." "I am glad if I have been useful," Wythie said, rather faintly. "It seems a pity not to use those old curtains for something," said Aunt Azraella, whose mind was on the order of Mrs. John Gilpin's. "But they are too faded for any purpose, and too big to make it worth while sending them to New York to be dyed." "I wonder if you would mind--Aunt Azraella, might I have them?" said Wythie, with desperate courage--it was nearly impossible for her to ask for anything. "You, Oswyth! What on earth could you do with them? You can't mean to get your mother to dye them for curtains for your house? You don't need curtains," said Mrs. Winslow. "I don't want them for curtains, Aunt Azraella; I want them for winter coats," said Wythie, more boldly, now that the first plunge was made. "Rob and I are too shabby to go out when there's a moon--not to mention sun. And Mardy could dye this material, and it would be warm and pretty. If you don't need them, aunt, they would really do us a lot of good--we would make the coats, you know." Mrs. Winslow stared wonderingly, then she gleamed approval at Wythie, though she felt called upon to conceal it. "There are thirty-six yards here, fifty-four inches wide; do you think you need so much? And it seems a pity to divide it," she said. "Oh, no; I've no idea what it would take, but not that--still, they would have to be lined, and Mardy could dye half another color, and line with the same," stammered Wythie. "I didn't think you'd care, but if you do I'm sorry I spoke--I did not mean to ask for anything you wanted." Having reduced Wythie to the properly humble frame of mind, Mrs. Winslow relented. "I did not say I wanted them, Oswyth," she said. "Thank goodness, your uncle, my husband, left me enough, besides all I had from my father; he was a thrifty man, and a good business-man, your Uncle Horace. I don't need old curtains, I hope. You may take a pair home--if you can carry them--and ask your mother if they can be used as you think, and how many she needs--you may have all you want of them. I'm glad to see you practical and managing; you've got the Winslow faculty, and aren't a Grey, as I'm afraid Roberta is. I'll get you paper and twine. Go across the orchard, Oswyth; don't let folks see you taking my curtains home. Can you carry them?"