When the tidings became noised abroad through the village, we were quite besieged. Mamma threw up the fortifications at the hall door. The old women, who were curious, or anxious, or even kindly-hearted in their officious way, heard all of the story there, or in the sitting-room, that it was necessary for them to know. Aunt Letty Perkins was not last nor least.
“Was it true, as she had understood, that these two young men came to study with Mr. Endicott? She heard they were going in college, or something or other. She hoped he would get well paid for his trouble—young college chaps were always pretty wild. There was no great loss without some small gain; and if this young fellow was sick, he couldn’t be kitin’ round the village into all sorts of mischief.”
“No, to be sure not,” returned mamma, with a smile at this sort of comfort.
“But what are you to do? You have your hands full already, with such a houseful of children! I allers say that Mis’ Endicott’s the most wonderful woman I know. I should think you’d a been worn out long ago; and here you haven’t scarcely a wrinkle in your face!”
“I do not know why people should wrinkle up their faces when they have a number of healthy, happy children about them. Why, they keep you young, Mrs. Perkins. It takes you back to your own childhood continually.”
“I hope you’re a going to get paid for all this.”
“I do not believe the Duncans will become chargeable to the parish, since they have fortunes of their own,” said mamma, rather dryly.
“Rich, now? Well, that’s good! Though rich men’s sons are exposed to sights of temptations. No one knows!” and Aunt Letty shook her head solemnly.
“I fancy there will not be many here at Wachusett.”
“Mean to keep them the whole year?”