“Don’t you think I don’t understand, honey,” she said, “and don’t you mind. You just cry till you get through, then you wipe up your eyes and pick out what it is that you want to take with you that the law will let you have. I been thinkin’ for you in these days when you haven’t had the time to think for yourself. I’ve had Jimmy Price and his wife clean the stuff out of my house and haul it over to my sister’s in Bluffport. She’s got plenty of room to pack it away. Talkin’ with Jason Peters when he brought in the groceries, I’ve found out that Peter Potter will let him use his delivery wagon to move things for us. Mrs. Price and Jimmy have got the house all clean, and while it’s nothing to compare with here, it’s shelter till you can look around and see what you can do. Fast as you make up enough bundles for a wagonload, Jason will stop and haul ’em over for you free and for nothing.” Mahala sat up and wiped her eyes. “Jemima,” she said, “only a week ago I thought I was possessed of what’s commonly spoken of as a ‘host of friends.’ To-day that host has dwindled to you, Albert Rich, Peter Potter, Jason Peters, and possibly Susanna Bowers. Do you realize that Edith Williams has not been here since the day after Papa went? Mrs. Williams hasn’t been but once, and since that writ of attachment is nailed on our front door, you’d think that it read ‘Leprosy’ instead of anything connected merely with dollars and cents.” “Never mind, honey,” said Jemima. “Put this in your pipe and smoke it. Fair-weather friends ain’t no good anyway. Them as sticks when the storm comes is the only ones that’s worth having. Now you go pick out the things you want Jason to move. I’m goin’ to stay right with you and take care of your Ma and cook for you, and you needn’t bother about payin’ me anything. I’ve been paid too much already. I bought my place with money I earned here. Whatever you do, you’ve got to do with your fingers. It’s all you know. You write out the kind of a sign you want to use and I’ll have Jason paint it like he paints them nice, stylish signs he sticks up fresh every day in Peter Potter’s windows. He’s real expert at it. He’ll fix you a nice one and trim it up fancy, and he’ll put it in the front yard, and then you’ll soon find out whether there’s goin’ to be anything in this town you can do that will furnish us bread and maybe a slatherin’ of butter once in a while.”