"Yes, my dear, I am over seventy," she said, quietly. "And I don't know that it would do you any harm. You have to face the world, too, one of these days. Please God, you may have a more guarded entrance into it than I had! Here is a cushion for your back, Mrs Rhoda; and, Phoebe, my dear, here is one for you. Let me reach my knitting, and then you shall hear my story. But it will be a long one." "So much the better, if 'tis agreeable," answered Rhoda. "I don't care for stories that are over in a minute." "This will not be over in a day," said Mrs Dorothy. "All right," responded Rhoda, settling herself as comfortably as she could. "I say, Phoebe, change cushions with me; I'm sure you've got the softer." And Phoebe obeyed in an instant. CHAPTER THREE. LITTLE MRS. DOROTHY. "And the thousands come and go All along the crowded street; But they give no ear to the things we know, And they pass with careless feet. For some hearts are hard with gold, And some are crushed in the throng, And some with the pleasures of life are cold-- How long, O Lord, how long!" "If I am to begin at the beginning, my dears," said little Mrs Dorothy, "I must tell you that I was born in a farmhouse, about a mile from Saint Albans, on the last day of the year of our Lord 1641; that my father was the Reverend William Jennings, brother to Sir Edward; and that my mother was Mrs Frances, daughter to Sir Jeremy Charlton." "Whatever made your father take up with a parson's life?" said Rhoda. "I wouldn't be one for an apron full of money! Surely he was married first, wasn't he?" "He was married first," answered Mrs Dorothy; "and both his father and my mother's kindred took it extreme ill that he should propose such views to himself,--the rather because he was of an easy fortune, his grandmother having left him some money." "Would I have been a parson!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I'm too fond of jellies and conserves--nobody better." "Well, my dear Mrs Rhoda, if you will have me say what I think," resumed Mrs Dorothy. "You can if you like," interjected Rhoda. "It does seem to me, and hath ever done so, that the common custom amongst us, which will have the chaplain to rise and withdraw when dessert is served, must be a relique of barbarous times." Dessert at that time included pies, puddings, and jellies. "O Mrs Dorothy! you have the drollest notions!" And Rhoda went off in a long peal of laughter. The idea of any other arrangement struck her as very comical indeed. "Well, my dear," said Mrs Dorothy, "I hope some day to see it otherwise." "Oh, how droll it would be!" said Rhoda. "But go on, please, Mrs Dolly."