"The pit of original sin," Hallam named it, advising her to give over the task of purification. "You've sprinkled pounds of chloride, splashed whitewash galore, swept and scrubbed and worn yourself out, and it's hopeless. Well, I never heard that any of the Ingrahams died of pestilence bred down there, so I fancy it won't hurt us." "Faith, it shan't that. I'll keep the front cellar door open into it incessant, an' I'll--" "Waste your substance in lime. Don't, Goodsoul. But it's on my mind as it is on yours. If I were as strong as I wish, I'd turn rabbit and burrow galleries out from the middle vault under the middle rooms each side of the house. That would give light and air and keep everything dry." Neither Cleena nor Hallam noticed that Fayette had been a close listener to this conversation, nor heard the muttered exclamation:-- "I'll do it! Huckleberries! I'll s'prise 'em!" This had been some days before Amy drew the diagram of the house, which she now tossed into the waste-basket. From that it was rescued by the half-wit and treasured carefully; for to the purpose formed in his mind it would prove a great help. "But go on, mother dear. What's the other sort of charity you mean?" "That by all the advantages which we have had over these new neighbors we should be helpful to them. We possess nothing of our own, absolutely, not even our better training and--" "Arrah musha! Sure the pullet was bad enough, but this baby'll be me death! An' me steppin' me great foot--There, there, darlin'. Cry no more, cry no more!" The interruption was Cleena, and the cause "Sir" William Gladstone. "Again, Goodsoul," jeered Amy. "Again is it? An' me goin' down that hill betimes this mornin' to remind me neighbor as how it wasn't necessary to send all the childer up here to wonst. Not _all_!" One of the first things which Cleena had made Fayette do was cut and smooth a path from the door of "Charity House" to that of the cottage below. She foresaw that there would be frequent errands to and fro, and the loose stones, with the tangle of running blackberry vines, were dangerous to life and limb. Then, because Hallam's lameness was also in her mind, she had persuaded the mill boy to add a row of driven stakes with rope strung along their tops. "But never at all has Master Hal, for whom it was made, gone down or up by that same. Me fathers, what's a body to do!" "We're living in 'Charity,' Goodsoul. And I've observed that, look out of window when I will, there's always a yellow headed Jones-let ascending to us by the easy road you've fixed. Belinda, the small, is apt to lead the way. She likes it up here. She likes it very much." "Hmm, that's what the mother be's sayin'. But is that any reason at all, avick, why they should be let?"