“Shucks!� said Mr. Tavis, in his high, wheezy voice. “Ain’t no sense in building a house, when there’s one all ready for Miss Agnes and her gal to live in. I built a big house with upstairs and all that, ’cause I had the money and I wanted a place like you-alls. My old woman and me are used to living in one or two rooms, and it comes awkward to have so much house ’round us. We’re going to move in the little room next to the kitchen, and, Miss Agnes, you’re to take the rest of the house; you’re used to having room to spread yourself. We cert’n’ly will be thankful to you.�
“Dear people! my people! my own family, all of you!� Mrs. Wilson said; it was some minutes before she could speak between sobs. “I can’t tell you—I never can say—how grateful I am—how I love you all, for—for being so dear and good to me.�
“Dear Agnes!� Mrs. Osborne’s arms were around her.
Mr. Mallett cleared his throat loudly. “Good to you!� he said. “Ain’t you taught my children and every Village child, never asking if you’d get pay or not, and beating sense in them that ain’t got no sense, and——�
“Ain’t I seen you grow up from a baby, age of my girl that’s dead?� said Mr. Tavis, blowing his nose like a trumpet.
Sweet William wailed aloud.
“Sh, sh, son!� His mother soothed him. “Why are you crying?�
“I don’t know,� sobbed Sweet William. “I—I just got to cry.�
“I didn’t know I could love you all better than I did!� exclaimed Mrs. Wilson. “Oh, you are so good, so dear! But we’ve made up our minds, Ruth and I, what we are going to do. We are going to live in the schoolhouse.�
“But, Agnes——� began Red Mayo.