"I don't understand her," said aunt Hannah, receiving her empty basket, and tying the broad kerchief more tightly over her head. "Now, don't meddle with what you can't understand," said uncle Nathan, earnestly; "you and I are getting to be old people, Hannah, and as we go down hill, this girl will be climbing up; don't let us drag her down with the weight of our old-fashioned ideas. There is something more than common, I tell you, in the girl." "But this painting won't get her a living, when we're dead and gone, Nathan." "I don't know, picters are the fashion now-a-days--who knows but she may yet have one hung up at the Academy." A grim smile came to aunt Hannah's face. "You may be right, Nathan," she said. "More strange things than that have happened in our time, so I'll just do as you think best, but she does waste a good deal of time and candle-light with her paints and things." "She's brought more light into the house than she will ever take away, heaven bless her," answered uncle Nathan. Just then, Mary came up with her basket. Exercise and the cold autumn air had left her cheeks rosy with color; she looked beautiful in the eyes of her benefactors. "Now," she said, pouring down her apples, "had not you better go into the cellar, uncle Nathan, and get the apple-bin ready? the air feels like frost." "They're not going into our cellar this year," said aunt Hannah, looking up into the branches above her, as if she feared to encounter the inquiring eyes of her companions; "we must do without winter apples; I've sold the whole crop." "Do without winter apples," exclaimed uncle Nathan, with a downcast look, "is it so bad as that sister?" "Apples are high down in York this fall," she answered, evasively. Mary turned away, sighing heavily, "Shall I never be able to help along?" she muttered to herself, and she fell into a train of thought that lasted till long after the apples were all gathered in a heap ready for the cart that was to carry them away. "Hannah," said uncle Nathan, the moment they were alone, "what has happened; Anna's boy, is it anything about him?" "His father is sick, Nathan, very sick, and will starve if we don't come to his help a little." "And this is why we are to have no winter apples in the cellar, I'm sure it's of no consequence. I've thought a good while that old people like us have no use for apples, we hain't got the teeth to eat them, you know. But then Mary is so fond of them, supposing we take out a few just for her, you know." "No," said aunt Hannah, sorrowfully, "she can do without apples, but they cannot do without bread; besides she wouldn't touch them if she knew."