By this time Betsy Jane brought a basin of water, which she dashed in the face of the unconscious woman, who soon began to revive. "Pennyr'yal tea'll settle her stomach quicker'n anything else," said Mrs. Douglas. "I'll clap a little right on the stove;" and, helping Madam Conway to the sofa, she left the room. "There may possibly be a mistake, after all," thought Maggie. "I'll question the girl;" and, turning to Betsy Jane, she said, taking up the book which had before attracted her attention, "Is this 'Jenny Douglas' intended for you?" "Yes, ma'am," answered the girl, coloring slightly. "Brother George calls me Jenny, because he thinks Betsy so old-fashioned." An audible groan from the sofa, and Maggie continued, "Where does your brother live?" "In Worcester, ma'am. He keeps a store there," answered Betsy, who was going to say more, when her mother, re-entering the room, took up the conversation by saying, "Was you tellin' 'em about George Washington? Waal, he's a boy no mother need to be ashamed on, though my old man sometimes says he's ashamed of us, we are so different. But, then, he orto consider the advantages he's had. We only brung him up till he was ten years old, and then an uncle he was named after took him and gin him a college schoolin', and then put him into his store in Worcester. Your head aches wus, don't it? Poor thing! The pennyr'yal will be steeped directly," she added, in an aside to Madam Conway, who had groaned aloud as if in pain. Then resuming her story, she continued, "Better'n six year ago Uncle George, who was a bachelor, died, leaving the heft of his property, seventy-five thousand dollars or more, to my son, who is now top of the heap in the store, and worth one hundred thousand dollars, I presume; some say two hundred thousand dollars; but that's the way some folks have of agitatin' things." "Is he married?" asked Maggie, and Mrs. Douglas, mistaking the motive which prompted the question, answered: "Yes, dear, he is. If he wan't, I know of no darter-in-law I'd as soon have as you. I don't believe in finding fault with my son's wife; but there's a proud look in her face I don't like. This is her picter," and she passed to Maggie the daguerreotype of Theo.